I choose the sword,
it rained all night
it cleared the park,
my night park
my sleepy park that walks through the dangerous afternoons
of Hollywood-affiliated people,
just to say something.
I touch the sword,
it is a fair trade,
between today and the TV forecasts,
an insignificant leak
of the information pipeline, of the protocol and the good manners,
a sidestep.
I use the sword,
a sacrifice.
Boybands Forever: this denim-packed history of 90s British pop is a magical
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king's sword
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