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Guest Writer

by Gretta Descamp

i make shadows with my pen
with my body with my hands
pause; and in thinking think
a rubber band can be infinite
as a moment as a fleeting smile
flashing absent teeth
as the man with his fly open
spilling his soul onto the street
drinking in the people who pass by
a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes
but when the day ends we are not the same
he packs away each copper bracelet,
each dusty flake of snow
and i pass by without saying hello

See more from Gretta in our archives.

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