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I thought that she was Morocco, but it was I who
stayed more still and she passed her tongue
over me until the first rushes of the Atlantic
came between us and she drifted away and
I went home to the Annapolis Valley to sit
between the North and the South mountains,
who were the northern most vestiges
of Appalachia, the long tired thin blue scar
of mountains left behind in the wake of the
separation with Spain.
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