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or – Kerry and the kids go on a vacation, without me --- kind of. (7/01)

This ghost of me, that is not me
goes every where you go;
This ghost of you that is not you
saddles with my very eyes
and whispers in my vision.

What shall we say of such a Being:
It is one times two,
It is two pressed together, twined,
It is you in me and me in you.

It is one.

I have about me
this me-ness.
You have about you
this you-ness.
But you have climbed
through every portal of sense
no other face
no other voice
no other force of habit,
No other picture of
what a woman looks like
can survive.

Now that you are far away
I think sometimes about our children.
I reproduce their faces,
for the moment.

But what's this phantom
that has leached the very cells
of my inner eye?

I blink,
and behold your fleeting face
traced hot like the spot of a bulb.

Will I return the favor?

Will I lift your eyes with wonder,
to the crashing surf – will you see strange things
within the clouds? Will my face flicker
like a strobe between the frames?

And now – I hear you
singing in the background,
I touch your strong face and back,
But you are more than sculpture
that I turn on the stage of my inner mind;

You are branded in my brain and I feel you thinking with me:

SO … Should I buy the delicious milk?
Or sacrifice my pleasure
for the One-percent?


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