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Light refractions and milk dreams,

You slink our street in all seasons,

Supple ice, fractal sun, splintered tiles

There on your Citroen throne.

The road paves over a hollow,

A gossamer tarmac film

A suburban precipice.

Your hops from ledges arms laps

Trace a filament we follow.

Your movements aren’t blunder or whimsy.

The world turns for you on your car bonnet. We all gaze

And you save us from falling.

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