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And Words Are All I Have
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It was lilac and it seemed to me then
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The color was paler than lavender. A first cousin.
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Two pieces, a matching dress and belted coat.
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Swiss dot it was called then.
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Gossamer. Lighter even than air.
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I would run my hand over its pebbled surfaces,
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so it wouldn't float up and away.
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from the bottom of the 25-cent bin in Jackson’s Department Store,
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crumpled there into a nondescript bundle
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held together untidily by elastics.
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When I loosened the ties,
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the ensemble sprang abundantly to life:
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As if I'd added water to a dormant elixir.
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I was hesitant to wear it at first,
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for fear I would sully it.
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But when I could wait no longer
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I gathered up its gauzy folds one piece at a time
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and let them float down over my head,
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securing the belt around my waist.
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Its weightlessness felt like armor,
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this sheath of seeming nothingness,
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now a force field against anything bad.
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It comes down to the ceremony now, the detail. Pressing your shirt with the cutaway collar, not too much starch, the way you liked it. I chose the shoes that were a bit small, but they were so fine-looking and you would approve. At the last minute I remembered your favourite photo of all of us for tucking into your …
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September's Particular Sadness
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I used to love September, but now it just rhymes with remember. Dominic Ricciletto A Careless Lover Summer takes its sweet time, Slowly strips your defenses, Has its way with you, Then abandons you, Alone, On the dock, In the chill of an October dusk. Ravished. Spent. Shivering. Wanting more.
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