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Moving Out (Free verse) by jessicazee
I’m tired of flies, silverfish and smells, stains, crumbs, balls of hair. A tub that never drains, my old T-shirts are dirty rags. I hardly go barefoot anymore. Do pillows need washing? My hands aren’t paper towels. We had feather dusters, two vacuums, a spray can that worked, those days together at the Laundromat next to the Y-Not III folding sheets and blankets with four hands are good-byes, things I broke or spilled when you would clean up the mess.

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