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the neon light twinkling on the hallway
like a motion detection sensor
especially mounted to catch
your heartbeats in the way
downstairs to the copier
and the fear, the intense fright
that the perfume which perpetrates
the office under the door is not yours
annihilating my will and nazal fosses
just like the e-mail unexpectedly arrived does:
please, print the document
I can hardly hold my breath
thrilled only by the thought that
when getting near the printer on the hall
I will forget what I wanted to tell you
as far back as this morning
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