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Retranslation
In the velvet mouth of an ancient AMC, a new hair (lone strand in my left pit) eludes my fingernails. I’m thirteen & fruitlessly trying to pluck myself smooth again, smooth as the cartoon cars on the screen, or Dad’s hairless calves, shockingly sleek, pale as pints of milk. Saturdays, he emerges from the shower in nothing but tighty-whities— furred chest, scraggly pit hair leaking like oil. When my body becomes his body, I’ll destroy us.