Two boys, pink in their manhood, lean over a balcony, full of teeth. Below: a brown man, skin tired of holding his bones. Work falls in shadows around his feet. The Puget Sound is bluer than any dream or sky. The boys loom, pink.
system says we’re not in charge of much else but this. system’s [planter’s raj] & the damn tea. the Brits sell us, Lipton sells us, Tata sells us. when are we permitted to unload?
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