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Everyday I talk to a stranger
that looks like you,
your free voice wheeling
like a round of wings.
We cannot agree but whose point is that?
I shrink, walk backwards,
as small as beyond
your reach,
as distance is privacy.
But you're faster than that,
spreading into off limits,
the skin's barrier.
If I touch you would you disappear for me?
But you take more than your share of time,
disconnecting meaning
from context, using words before
they're accessible.
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