August 2012
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when we were no one
19
with friends,
some drunk,
some pretending,
in the middle of a cornfield
shooting an old gun at the fire
to watch the embers become a shower of stars.
We were stupid.
We were all powerful.
We were the greatest whoever lived
when we were no one.
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the recording
The tracks trace the river. He’s setup at the end of the train platform every morning, occasionally getting in the way of the commuters vying for a good spot where they know the train doors will open exactly where they did the day before. He might be 12 or 13. He has professional recording equipment; The stereo microphones are on a stand; The recorder is in a pack hanging on his shoulder....
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