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Ask Me How I Am 

The bulldozers are back
and the rain. It’s the neighbor’s
dog who howls and rubs
herself against the fence. A protestor
killed by a bulldozer locked
her knees like wires splitting a field.
I saw it on TV. At night I dream oil
and lug nut shining across the interstate.
Tufts of hair lie wet in the yard.

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