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£.£..£.£.£ i follow the tire tracks west. they go .£.£.£.£..
£.£.££.£.£ parallel with the railroad, with its .£.£.£.£.£
£.£..£.£.£ endless mirrors looking kinda oily. an .£.£.£.£..
£.£.££.£.£ incredible power bound there... there's .£.£.£.£.£
£.£..£.£.£ a wire fence to separate the two roads. .£.£.£.£..
£.£.££.£.£ .£.£.£.£.£
£.£..£.£.£ even though there's a foggy quality to .£.£.£.£..
£.£.££.£.£ the air, the path i follow is glowing. .£.£.£.£.£
£.£..£.£.£ a yellow-green moss has taken hold .£.£.£.£..
£.£.££.£.£ where the machines who made these .£.£.£.£.£
£.£..£.£.£ tracks once disturbed the clover field. .£.£.£.£..
£.£.££.£.£ .£.£.£.£.£
£.£..£.£.£ we're off the season when the birds .£.£.£.£..
£.£.££.£.£ sing beautifully. these days it's just .£.£.£.£.£
£.£..£.£.£ screeches, or calls for help. .£.£.£.£..
£.£.££.£.£ .£.£.£.£.£
£.£..£.£.£ i think of the jackdaw i maimed .£.£.£.£..
£.£.££.£.£ yesterday. i fear the dreaming gate. .£.£.£.£.£
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