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Do you have, like me, those years-long moments when you are afraid:
On your way to me, the train will find no rails, and air will be
Heavier than airplanes, or your road will be a trap, your map
Will betray you, and your car will choke with gas? No signs on streets,
No retreat, no traffic lights, your town will be a desert, no
One allowed to say my name, to know my address. Don't you have
These impenetrable moments? -- when, too heavy with your want,
You can't make a step towards me waiting, with no tracks, for trains.
Are you not afraid your language will not have conjunctions for
Right directions, grammar to express your reckless urge to go
Through the air that will be heavier than airplanes, down the road
Wrought in loops and leaps -- no speed limit for thoughts, no needed words,
Needled threads across your torn apart vocabulary, no
Manual for how to walk towards me, closer in a day
With one step, away from your vernacular speech? Are you not
Alien on your map, not showing where you are and where I am --
Lost, like me, in Latin, laden, latent underneath my slang?
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