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James Anderson


how terrible he was
to you I say
stirring my coffee
in Vickiís on Grand
she takes the spoon
from me
you know I tell her
as she puts the spoon
in her mouth
we feel it more than
they do and
another thing
I say and suddenly
her lips are close
to mine


no lesbian ever loved women
as I have
no man ever gazed
into more faces
or floated down Hennepin
Avenue to wait in cafes
as I have waited or
wandered the streets of Minneapolis
as one lost among gardens
of flowers

I thought I could read bodies in
those faces I thought
every curve of the lip was
a curve of the navel
I thought no I didn't think at all
I sunk myself
so deeply into the
bouquet my lips touched the vase
and I prayed to be one
of them

©2008 by James Anderson

James Anderson publishes poetry and short fiction in a variety of venues, both online and print.

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