I grew up like a

wild west weed wan­der­ing tall and round, spiky. dried and hol­low, drifting. shot out of loose sand home, dull fibrous bit­ter green. raises a stink when torn. sun dries to a hard snap pro­tec­tive, razor lances. scrape skin, embed in nap Lots, gar­dens, street edges squeeze, wrenched brown dry...

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