By Lynn Emanuel
I love its smallness: as though our whole town
were a picture postcard and our feelings
were on vacation: ourselves in mini- ature, shopping at tiny sales, buying the newspapers--small and pale and square as sugar cubes--at the fragile, little curb. The way the streetlight is really a table lamp where now we sit and where real night, (which is very tall and black and at our backs), where for a moment the night is forced to bend down and look through these tiny windows, forced to come closer and put its hand on our shoulder and stoop over the book to read the fine print. |
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