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Patti Smith's Fingers

where  are you   from - ?
there is no distinction between your face
& mine
your veins
strove for & been thinkin
call & the traces of unpolished resiliance
in we  both

i sit a table away from patti smith
outside  the french cafe
the cafe's open door is all that separates
conversations & plates
these late breakfasts we share -

across the street
her cat stares
at the shadows
on the sunlit steps
of her red brick house
all that separates it from them is
the window

there is little distinction between her greying hair
thru the cafe glass
& mine
fire backwards is easy  but says nothing
her mouth  words  eyes  gestures  veins
the work we put in success we achieve

jane walks by  she asks about ted
i tell her  diabetes  is his catchphrase now
the way sugar sleeps into the blood
& makes one worry as one

wire traces itself within various activities
& choices

patti smith's hand rests on her knee
we are all a few giant steps away from what we inherit
or what we lose
the boy  the girl  rubber bands scattered on an oil stained street

her fingers move as she enunciates  what to me is only silence
words without syllable  or  vowel
a postcard away from being delivered

the open door between us
is as closed as any
cloud covered

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