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Professing that.

we all need some time to hallucinate, I said, dropping the phone

to hold onto a wave of nausea and the floor.

When I got back to the receiver he was asking if I'd seen his banana body suit; to wear for interviews, only in Massachusetts.

The '40s flower in me. And I walking down trailing seed pearls and random body parts, those Ben left behind; a lovely buggy summer day.

Beyond that ambience a song that declared in French, my love for the face and voice of you. Your saltines

make everything possible.
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Author:Bowden, Janet
Publication:The American Poetry Review
Date:Mar 1, 1993
Words:94
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