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the dark emerald green
descends in a dream
that was thin
sliding down old Benbulbin. the mossy rocks
set, like elemental clocks
don't move-
slow time is worn smooth. then us hive bugs
mortal in summer duds
slide past to the bottom
hanging on before forgotten. understanding change-
others need to be strange
in it all-
to repented blame
they go walking in lashing rain
some less tall- back to town
lank hair matted down
in the bar
the same drink too far.
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