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Miniature vegetables and plums in Montreal.
Where are you, what are you doing
while we stoke the everlasting campfire?
Hundreds of particular plants and flowers
are calling your name.
The butterflies of love descend to the creek’s deformed campaign.
In the city you discuss parlor romances
and novels about torture chambers.
A ballet dancer with a poorly-concealed erection
twirls beneath a light.
Where on all the peaks around this blue valley
will we find you?
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