novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- second fiddle we are sitting on the wide white porch the neighborhood framed dark in front of us like a theater with surround sound. true home theater. the speakers are in the living room; they are loud; they are playing pool and they are talking about books. she settles her body into the crook of the porch where railing meets wall. i wonder if she can see where my hand went. kathleen's poem is running through my head. several of we are getting chosen, eenee meene minee mo, several of we are getting sick. small wonder that i leave alone. 10:27 am - 05.01.05 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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