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Young Basquiat III

We’re walking back

from the mess hall

straight line

hands behind our backs

when I see Stanford

coming out of my cell

I pause and he sees me

seeing him

He unlocks my door

and waits for me

to get in

There, on my desk

is more paper

and a small watercolor set

like the ones

they give to kids

He nods without

looking at me and

closes the door

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