Yours to Keep

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The yellow line of the subway made stops at the beach, the cathedral, and the most expensive shopping street so the trains were always packed with tourists. I hoped I understood Manolo’s instructions. Espera . . .

The Keeper

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Mom and Dad each take one of my hands and squeeze so tightly it is as if they’re holding on to the one thing they have left. My hands feel cold inside theirs, cupped palms that should fit neatly but don’t . . .

The Pitch

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Come one, come all, gather round, take a seat, And let me show you the latest technological treat. Is your world awfully dull, grey-washed and boring? Do you find yourself sitting in class, at work, snoring? Are you counting the days and filling your time Waiting for death in an orderly line? Fear not my friend, my darling, my dear, Pirelli’s new glasses are finally here! A volunteer? A Jane? A Jack, Jill or John? Ah, there you go, just pop these specs on! See there’s a filter inside that makes it all rosy, Pastel and pink, softened and cozy . . .

Juncture

Waiting, framed by flaking white paint curls and whispers, falling too soft, among the voices that roar, suck smoke cycling converging exhaust through each breathy gape Waiting, beneath the feather streamers, cold, lingering, while others rubbing forearms, spurning contact pause too brief for feeling Watching the wall— those shadows wobbling in front of it—against better judgments, the wan exchange of interests, sipping acrid drinks . . .

Ruminating

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In ere of a dream, I am not but ruminating. Yet, is not life that deceives me; instead it is the merit of love. For the stars are not in my eyes, and cordiality is lost in my voice . . .