I drive by this park every day.
Yet,
Today is different,
even when it is just a hot, lazy summery day.
There is a pretty young woman sitting in the tree shade,
leaning against its trunk.
Today.
Her dress creeping upwards,
Her lips barely quivering,
She is reading a book of poems,
Today.
She is reading one specific poem
Today.
This one. The one I am writing right now.
The one you are reading as I write.
Today.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
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