It doesn’t really matter all the things I remember how my father would carry me on his shoulders my mother’s box of rings the Eiffel tower the manta rays swimming in the light of the dock everything becomes a footnote something someone puts in parenthesis or leaves in the back of a closet (remember how I said I liked your tie?)
1 comment:
Outstanding! Want a ring? And shall we post the pictures of the Medusas in the Monterey acquarium?
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