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i never knew pity would go
to such extremes. pity takes a foolish man's pride
and softens it into dough. my handwritten memoirs are
deep in the back of my closet, behind the worn
sunday dress and the fishing pole i never used. uncle
willy did, though, once; out on his vacation in
colorado, but it was more desert than lake,
so he had to settle for
the pond behind the cabin where the goldfish swam,
their scales flashing in the sunlight like tears.
-Aug. 17, 2000
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Leave of Absence
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