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I mean, what's 30 years between friends?
                                           between talks?
                                           between hugs?
                                           between kisses?
A quiet
young woman
in a library
reading books
with diagrams
of bomb shelters
and *** positions

She's thinking
of her future
Somehow, unbefuddled, it all ties together,
The happy endings get tied, knots well made,
Sleep comes easy, the light dims slowly, finely,
Clarity, everywhere, not for taking, just for asking,
Wanting is off limits, even inconceivable, and the poem.
Why, even the poem finishes itself, and to all a very, Good Night

a grownup lullaby

— The End —