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Jul 2011
When I open my eyes
I know he’s gone.
It’s desert ground I’m standing on.

But only the wind may say
“Lord, you spoke I this way”
As for the rest, well
We have our narcissistic prayers.

Don’t worry, girl
Just when we think it's good-bye
He comes back for a little dusting.
Allison Wright
Written by
Allison Wright  New York
(New York)   
732
 
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