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The Impossible Bouquet

ISSUE:  Winter 2001
Late at night
they appear together,
the friends of different eras,
who never knew each other,
only you, but tonight
because a wall’s collapsed,
from age perhaps, or simply
tiredness, they can have
a conversation, or appear
for once in the same picture,
like one of those 17th century
floral paintings the artists
worked on for months, incorporating

flowers from each season as
they blossomed, and allotting space
for those not yet in bloom,
creating in the end
an impossible bouquet.

What is it they are talking about,
so animated, yet still
under their breath, half heard
and only guessed, but from
a corner of the eye they seem
to be smiling, laughing,
each in their famous way.


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