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Poetry
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An Accountant's Hamlet
My Horatio,
ever practical;
you stay, by will alone,
unconcerned by ghosts
of what should have been.
A Magic If
If you were a caterpillar,
you would fold
inward, inside;
drop your skin
to the bottom
like a robe,
finally private
and naked.
And you would digest yourself....
Rodeway Inn
Gray on gray, the large mirror gathers shapes
in its frame, settling into a dark composition:
Rodeway Inn. The familiar motel room design
fulfills its function: to isolate, to mimic comfort
with its illusion of privacy.
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