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Sedlacek Early Nothing
Weeds barking at the sundial.
Its skin smooth and gray; where
squirrels leave their walnut carcasses.
The outside is rough and green,
inside:
pulp discotheques
for bugs seeking happy hour.
A single toss and it is a baseball,
the back yard a pitcher’s diamond,
and the neighbor’s window home plate.
They come to my door
their hands tinted green
and all I can do is laugh.
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