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Follow the plastic green and flamingos to my door, enter through the bedroom terrace, lay down. Bathe in my bloodbath and catch your reflection. Take a gun from the wall and shoot a man down. Join a cult that exalts Santa Claus.               Candles burning as I sweep the kitchen floor. My mother and sister come Monday. I’ll invite them in as I invite you, to enter my home and find some bit of us to hold on to.

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