timmy
Member
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How strange to be in two places
at once, in two places at the same time
one: a ‘60’s beauty salon, aqua blue
plastic chair, white talc powder
on the floor, a woman’s footprints
to the seat; it’s one o’clock, screen
mesh is on every window, no matter
which window, it’s even in the mirrors
nothing ever changes here, ever; not time,
not location, not going anywhere never
changes; the same movies, tea leaves,
the three short blocks it takes from
the end of the line to that Beach Road
house on the hill above Third Street East
two: a house in western Wisconsin
to provide a physical reaction to it
takes an effort, to access a chemical
response to it takes only a glass of wine;
on the way there, there is a sort of grandeur
in the flowers, a representation of youth,
full flushed; there is a bench near the house;
one can sit and watch petals fall to the ground;
one can lean back, take three breaths, count
nine heart beats, then the light, then the sound,
and finally all of life’s shadows left behind
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