so,
i force myself to force myself
to
think on the dark party that happened
to
think back/rerun and rewind
to
confront the thing . . . with open armour
all the Things!
to
to
to
write intelligently about the Girl
who
has
lived
on these pages more than her street reality
and i never touched her at all
to
confront like therapy/like a crystal moment drunk
the last blown happiness-
late summer/jumpers at dawn
-when i suddenly flew on brief wings
lighter
than
anything
i
felt
since
since
since
i was too young to spell the days
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