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The Neighbor's Pool In the water, accepted among the other reflections, lanterns and night draw me with ease. The flex and puddle, trees and concrete, bleat with chemicals and the scent of pure oxygen. The air is trapped, caught between dogs and cornfields. Finally my skin can lie. One day, and the house feels like my own-- photographs introduce themselves, dust settles on fingertips, their bed suggesting ridiculous fantasies. In time, I will count the stars and eat from the icebox, read mail that might as well be in code, drink until headlights beam. I will not back down. I would never trade poisons, smoke their crop, settle for less. Here, grasses develop physical attachments-- the gravel road undertakes heroic sonatas. I let the dogs run free, even past the gates. They have to know their way home. I hand out the towels. We dry off and chill with riddles. I am so smooth on my way to the garage, looking for shoes to hide my muddy feet. The flashlight comes on and I am let loose on my path, evaporating like some silly false god. |
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