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Tick-Tock, the chimes changed their tune one phrase at a time.
The bomb became a film star, its glamorous globe of smoke, searing the faces of men in beach chairs.
Someone threw-up everyday at school. No time to worry about collective death, when life itself was permeated by ordeals.
And so we grew up beneath an umbrella of acceptance.
In bio we learned there were particles cruising through us like whales through archipelagoes,
and in civics that if Hitler had gotten the bomb he'd have used it on the inferior races, and all this time love was etching its scars on our skins like maps.
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