All the times we had passed through stay embalmed and available, pickled ,sun- dried like meat pieces preserved for all those unending vegetable days.

We have our passions still simmering.Fates are toothless to chew and claw ,from wizened faces, moonshine gone ,from our thin pates, now bald moons.

Lucky we had pickled earlier moons and preserved them for a future use.And now we flaunt them as keepsakes souvenirs to show bored neighbors .We had been there, fort ruins and all


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