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Rivalry is a question 
of place:
I want to live 
with the sheets of paper
folded over my hips at night,
in the morning
sun; glint of dust 
after dust, its marks
of pen 
rubbed 
on the underside 
of my right hand.

The unveiling of authenticity; 
the becoming covering identity.

[image]
[italicized text borrowed from
Roland Barthes' A Lover's Discourse: Fragments]