I’ll sit in one of these two green chairs. Two chairs. One me. (Again she’s here alone.) A plane draws a thin white line in the air. She drifts and dreams: and wonders who has flown.

No Poem Is the Only Poem. No Story Is the Only Story.
I’ll sit in one of these two green chairs. Two chairs. One me. (Again she’s here alone.) A plane draws a thin white line in the air. She drifts and dreams: and wonders who has flown.