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Locked out on a tepid Carolina December evening, tiny points of rain tapping on the glass table. The crickets keep singing. A duck says goodbye as he heads off to snowbird in Fort Myers. The deer over there in the darkest woods don’t want me to know I’m there. The puppy cries, wondering why I won’t let him out and play with him. A gentle wind brings a few more drops. Somewhere in the distance, the whine of a freight train. The Buddha that won’t light up just sits.

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