Now I live
other people's lives
in other people's houses,
padding barefoot through
strange familiar rooms
recognizing on the walls
paintings and photographs
from prints in textbooks
that I once read
leafing through novels
that I'd been meaning to buy
cooking with spices
that I have seen mentioned
in televison travelogues
glimpsing faces
remembered from magazines
in the mirror
and wondering who
they're turning into.
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3 comments:
Tres nice...but you forgot the Saturday morning bagpipe serenade.
Oh, no I didn't, Nonny... that would be impossible. It penetrates everything around me. I felt a need to keep it out of this serene little piece of virtuality.
Haunting and lovely.
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