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Mr. Sargent then excused himself flew l7 bombers over France mailed letters from London with funnies and news. came home and fathered my killer who is 7 years old and far too shy riding in the sky above me who is falling with the rest of this lucky green twine bright with the hook of Colin gliding moist with insanity like Elsies blood and the white sexless bacon dangles haplessly before me as I swim up to it knowing the rest of this blood is Elsies sky and the whole shore ends at Kennebunkport Maine and all boats are rowed by Wendell P. Sargent who was damaged by tuberculosis damaged by the brightest mist and I flash my tail for the last time dive for the shade like a sunken kite. tuck my future into my left breast pocket this part is to be whispered reverently and bite my gosh my mother Im sorry lll bite my God my father lll die I love you lll bite.