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Camping
I love the dent 
 on the car door.
 And the bruises on my knees.
 
 Fell for the tent,
 the dirt floor,
 the spider sky tarantula trees.
 
 Fading fire,
 old desire,
 I owe these scrapes to just two things.
 
 The force of nature,
 and of course,
 my loneliness disease.

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