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Back
That afternoon when,
fearing I would drown,
I fell back into you,
the sun played tricks on the
frozen window,
and I thought I'd never fly
again. Honest.
With
Nobody had called me those
things before.
Loser. Inadequate. Faker.
Fakir? I queried, actually
liking that one.
You wish, you said, in a very
non-verbal way,
and I made a mental note to
read up on homophones,
they're so much fun.
Away
Your sobs followed me out the
door
and down the steps; your tears,
trickling then gushing ahead,
made a dolphin-shaped puddle.
And a car sped by, a silver
Volvo,
splashing the puddle,
and sending the dolphin into
the sky.
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