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It was Lisa’s birthday    She turned 143

 

we celebrated with pretzels

and watched the Descendants of man

fishing [a] manmade lake

 

The water green    the sky tender,

night trains. strawberries.

 

wind-stunted skeletons

the outer banks of bad religions.

 

Lisa had blood in her nose

 

Fish flew through the air, over the tree,

a woman with a tiny dog    clapping