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told them about joan and they said they had to go, get home
later I heard they liked her despite the startled look
she was drawn again yesterday
so joan will be
revered

if the pencil slips
she will remain
ignored
day of small things,
slowly steadily worked
as we rest the dust motes,
shine as gold.
the air moves
on my skin.

i turn
look past the curtain

see the face again

framed.
yesterday I watched a documentary
about monkeys
light came, we saw the green ness of it all.                          we live in the country.
yet when
she said my friend looked pretty
&
that I smelled nice
I sagged a little.

later that day
i found a message
request
from a soldier in the usa
holding a puppy & a rose
calling me a beauty
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