The Property Commute

The outdoor churns in traffic and rain, bells. Get over here, she says, the mother in something red. The kids with their eager knees, bungled, imperial more than even the crows.

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Will the members stand

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If you were a woman and threw your leaves to the ground, then the trees. Roofs and skies some silver change. Oh lord, she says, something red.

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Members stand

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Sirens no emergency but the calling of sleep. Sidewalk take the knees, the silver walking down. Come here, she says.

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Stand

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