Weblog entry:
- From the weekend
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Working backwards along the tablecloth, following
a crease. Pinched lips that cross the white expanse. Iconcentrate on the mouth before me, instead of yours
beside me. Working backwards along the collapse, expanseof our spheres, a quiet thought like a shuddered breath: we’ve
moved apart as one, and yet I turn to you, and you’re stillthere. Smiling.
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- 08th day of March 2004.
- Filed under Story, Poetry.
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