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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 slows 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 sun can get.......
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