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June 1997 | |||||||
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2 The Great Pornographer had helpers, and their desire was to peer inside everybody's shirt. They asked, Do you love your country? Yes, I said. Yes. And I explained about pride, and I talked about duty-- but I saw bricked cities, broken factory windows in Lowell, old farms in Ohio, young families, the white bark of poplars just beyond the machinery, and I saw love--your mother breaking open a pomegranate--her tongue, fuchia. |
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