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February 6, 2018 / barton smock


while covering my mouth with a bruise from the robot’s vision board, I wheel our son past a group of seven men arguing the age gap between the first and last immortal and remind myself to appreciate the comic timing of those who move freely from one diaper change to the next without putting a small toe to their lips and I forgive them their privacy and their resting arms and I forgive them for believing absence is a straight line…

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  1. barton smock / Mar 12 2018 2:37 pm

    Reblogged this on kingsoftrain and commented:

    edited, slightly

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