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We were orphaned
to your mother’s pork bao buns,
your brothers’ cock fights
& tattered metallic costumes
stuffed loveless in rattan hampers
behind the stalled Pinto.
You were some hybrid
mermaid-disco-lord.
I, a rotten queen choked
with a dingy accordion collar.
You tied yarn to my neck,
a leash for the collar.
I followed behind.
Once we watched a bird,
wing-slit, hobble the chain-link edge
looking for a fine place to die.
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