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I feel it, first as a stir,turning deep in the murky water.Surfaces up for air, a twitchon the lake in my head.A flip, and it disappears.
I was born with a map of Australia on my face;it was beautiful, my mother told me – there was nobody like me in the whole wide worldwho could trace the edges of down under
The moon was married last nightand nobody saw,dressed up in her ghostly dressfor the summer ball.
I spied a small lonely boy.I was his beautiful red balloon,from morning through to noon,