a bus roared by on a NYC street and bailed a puddle of icy sludge onto the sidewalk, "IF I DON'T KNOW WHAT I am?" The woman's eyes held the sincerity of the question in between a police officer having his waist belt and weapons put into a brown paper sack and marked with his locker number.
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By Mother's Day the land was really finding its voice. Leafed trees and the songs of creatures awakening from winter.
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