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Chocolate City

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Found poetry from a hyperfiction I created collaboratively with a bunch of friends back in 1998, called Collabor8, or 8: A Collaborative Hypernarrative Fiction

"Chocolate City" t-shirts. "3 for $10." Thin transparent cotton dishrags 
with "Washington Blues." Sadly, Bart Simpson is suffering a decline. 
His "Don't Have a Cow, Man," used to be a classic, used to make young
children smile when you returned home from Washington. Such a wonderful
memento along with the foil packet of astronaut freeze-dried icecream one dad
kept hidden after the boys had eaten all their before even leaving the
Smithsonian. That one packet shared together at Walt Whitman rest stop way
up I-95 on the way back to Queens.

The freeze-dried ice-cream reminds me of my father's ashes as I emptied them
from an oak box into the midnight blue sea off Waikiki. The freeze-dried
icecream reminds me of the ashes held tight by a Boston family for all to share
later when everybody has all but forgotten.