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She opened her eyes and
he was gone, she turned
her head both ways and walked to the
window, there were lines coming from
the street lamps and lines
from one car to the next, he
ran away, his hat falling off
and blowing away up
on the sky, to the top of the
sun and he is smiling, with circles,
circles, circles around him, each one
more yellow than the next,
he runs away to the far corner
of the page until he is a pencil.
She wishes her mother could have met
him, that her mother would
know that she left the streets
because it was too cold in
the winter, she wishes her mother
would return her calls. Her mother
in her mind, a cave drawing, a
statue, heavy breasts and open legs.