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She swung open
The shuttered window,
Threw dried crumbs
To the birds
Roosted on the ledge
Below.
She thought about him
Often.
When her mind would
“Flashback,”
Or slip off towards sleep,
She hadn’t written,
She hadn’t called.
It had been months.
The spider Vines
She’d hung on the window frame
The first day she’d moved in,
Now hung down nearly to the
Ledge below.
She’d had a lover
Or two since then,
But only men-
Not someone who she
Cared to spend
More than a day or two with.
They were,
In her frame of reference,
Just “friends.”
She gathered handfuls
Of warmth from the
South Texas Sun.
The city was busy.
The traffic below kept
Her from feeling alone.
She was happy.
No tie-ups,
No commitments,
“I just like to have fun.”
Her standard reply about
Who she was,
Or what she had done.
-22-
The cat jumped onto the ledge,
Peered down the block
From her 3rd story window,
And then was off again.
She would stay here,
She had planned,
Pass a few years away,
Try and forget.
She thought about him
More than she had
Thought about all the others,
The years before-
More than the little girl
Behind the bedroom door,
More than the lovers she
Kept and left behind.
She kept her pictures
Of “them” in her albums
Of the mind.
In times when she was
Free to lean on “fantasy”
She would lean on “them.”
But she always caught herself,
She couldn’t return.
He knew her too well-
Loved her too much-
She was happy to “go back”
And touch upon times
And frames of mind,
Like cards and valentines.
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