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I Left My Couch in Tatamagouche.

 I desired lemonade-- it was hot and I had been walking for hours--
but after much wrestling, pushing and shoving, I simply could not get my
couch through the restaurant door. Several customers and the owner and
the owner's son were kinder than they should have been, but finally
it was time to close and I urged them to return to their homes, their
families needed them (the question of who needs what was hardly my field
of expertise). That night, while sleeping peacefully outside the train
station on my little green couch, I met a giantess by the name of Anna
Swan. She knelt beside my couch and stroked my brow with tenderness. She
was like a mother to me for a few moments there under the night sky. In
the morning, I left my couch in Tatamagouche, and that has made a big
difference. 
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Author:Tate, James
Publication:Northwest Review
Article Type:Poem
Date:Nov 1, 2011
Words:176
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