Title

XXXVIII

Some lack of atmosphere. Like a votive lamp. Whoever relates this to me would be lying. Just a hint of splendor, perhaps a dubious, divided cause, a sic et non, a concealable pride, a passionate--but composed--contradiction. Let it be. Fine. Unexpected placidity. To put aside the urge [moved by the urge]. Two. A back, a neck, a voice: fragments, supported by a way of being there, firm, a net properly woven. A wait which presents itself. With such sly discretion. With
             total tact.

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