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Icicles

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Icicles

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Icicles

The tickle of icicles
dripping down my neck
between parka hood and hair
comes back sixty years later
in a place with no icicles
dripping or otherwise.

In this land of relentless
sunshine and drought
trickling icicles bespeak
exile, loneliness,
a thirst that is never
slaked.

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