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Wendy C. OrtizSome ScarsHe went away to El Salvador the last summer of us, of bombs, I was spinning loose, taking jogs around the lake of myself were lost around that lake. I pulled all-nighters watching, blowing out the flame. The smoke washed down the drain.
we could live with. Our life together became one of airport runs on nicked hardwood floors. I came home to a bedroom of confetti: came off for others, often. and I raced toward that new fire with the thorny burrs of old, gnarled love
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