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The street was one way then another
walking to and from his house.
He had never missed a day
of doing what was planned
but I found him in his yard,
Digging to the pipes with a shovel
meant for leaning on your garage.
Proof, he said, eyebrows frozen downward,
that you don't need a reason.
Two girls on tippy toes peeked out
the window hoping for treasure.
He met their eyes quickly and then went on,
thrusting the shovel
to the beat of the vein in his forehead.