I USED TO BELIEVE

 

 

that my drawings were magical

and that my parents lovingly

watched over and protected me.

 

Secretly, I thought even

strangers knew me

(and loved me).

 

Then I grew older and I

believed in school and women;

and that I would have a son and a

home and a dusty attic filled

with boxes of my family’s things.

 

Maybe even a mint garden

mint in a bowl or

mint in a mint jar.

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                           --Published La Fenetre

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