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The Lips

we have always loved topical birds especially swallows which flutter like lips knee-deep in shadows in that certain uncomfortable chill near dusk the lake hardens a mood the west one long convergent longitude of orange and pink swallows come from the other half of the lake the darker half they dip down low under the bridge up out rising thin as lips then down again tongue-close to the water their ballet of conversation supplies the warming words we've come to settle for

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