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ISSUE:  Spring 2006

Cold wit leaves me cold
this time of the world     Multifoliate disorders
straiten my gait     Minuets don’t become me
Been wanting to get out     see the sights
but the exits are slick with people
going somewhere fast
every one with a shared past
and a mot juste     And me so out-of-step
with my late-night staircase inspirations     my
utopian slant

Still, I’m alive here
in this village drawn in a tightening noose
of ramps and cloverleafs
but the old directions I drew up
for you
are obsolete

Here’s how
to get to me
I wrote
Don’t misconstrue the distance
take along something for the road
everything might be closed
this isn’t a modern place

You arrived starving at midnight
I gave you warmed-up food
poured tumblers of brandy
put on Les Barricades Mystérieuses
—the only jazz in the house
We talked for hours
of lesser and greater sorrows
ended up laughing in the thicksilver
birdstruck light


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