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I Study Our Photos I study our photos relentlessly on still winter evenings. Views in living color, Kodak moments filling up albums, filling up shoe boxes, not filling up me. See, ski slope still-lives. you with apple-red cheeks. Me--Chiquita banana in yellow boots. A fruity duo, distant, posed, two painted figurines insinuated in fresh snow. In bed at night I open my eyes to darkness, doing my best to reconstruct you. Eyes, chin, lips, nose, the imperfect ears, all free-floating fragments unwilling to coalesce. Thank god I can still bury my face in your old sweater. Your scent lingers there, molecules, suspended in thick gray wool. You are not lost to me completely. |
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