b – > b

in the orange gleam of towers, concrete, metal banister, peter pan collars
shades of gray the boys and girls they stand at bay, ticks on their feet
or three stripes, or 5 point stars, everyone they loved near and far, long distance,
a checklist: frequent flyer, their six plus figure empires, snide eyes in hallways
and frivolous spending        fourteen     fifteen        sixteen
like royal city avenue and milled rice,  another afternoon in mbk
last take off 4500 miles away,   ice on shoulder-arm-elbow-wrists—fingers fisted
in that order.    saving grace.          too many
expat families with broken daughters on the brink of saving ship her to the
white man’s land
teach her sharper tongues and give her steel between skin, true or falsified
it’s okay, they tried,    they dream of  hearty blood and warm insides, untouched
we really fucked up huh”


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