lamentations was my morning song
Tarot said I have been towered
must begin again
what
begin again on a Friday?
never
takes too long
at the Dead Poets bookstore words leak from books
flow around corners
vortex
surely one will find me
untower me
old man
linen face under straw hat
explains freedom from disturbance of mind
trembling bone of a finger
holding book place
tomorrow he leaves for New Mexico mountains
cool air and his daughter
I smile
young girl
leaning against shelf
startles
what are those yellow flowers?
van Gogh sunflowers
remember them
they can see you
the owner Linda and I
talk little girls
hers in Poland
mine in Florida
Mary said and Lilia said…
and oh!
those funny baby girls
we laugh
grandmothers longing for miniature voices
huge lost moments of life
we remember our sons' long ago faces
hummingbird painted on the fence
in memory of Ian
Ronn looks good she says
I almost didn't know him
and I am so glad you are buying these books
her hugs are soul quickening
magickal elements
yellow square
silver crescent
untowered
soul redeemed
I leave Dead Poets bookstore
a set of Picasso books in a Bebe Sports bag
somewhere
a word found me
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