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   Part of it sleeps.
   Part of it fits
   the inside of your hand.
   Put your hand around

   it the first few times
   so you don't forget,
   the hard rough yawn.
   Inside the carriage

   gallops to Paris
   the dark green aristocrat
   rides in his mother
   the little hard man

   knots his hand down
   into permanence and God.
   The dark water surface
   the avocado

   just at the surface.
   Everything fitting around.
   The avocado
   slips into the air,

   one more finger
   in the glove,
   one more hum in
   the road through.
   The kangaroo, mailwoman
   And return address.
   The pink love avocado.
   The eventual.

   is God's avocado.
   The exact fit
   is what we are.
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Title Annotation:Poems
Author:Saleh, Dennis
Article Type:Poem
Date:Jun 22, 2009
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