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GETTING TO THE POINT
Under the ocean
Above the clouds
Over the mountain there is a world:
The same world
For me
For the lady who sold me coffee
Yesterday morning.
Outside my window
In my head, in my past
Those are worlds, too.
The globe on my desk is a bank for pennies.
Spinning, it is blurred
Like memory
But it jingles.
In geography class
They taught us to read maps.
They left out most of the worlds.
I mention it
Because at the moment
I'm lost.
Not a map in sight
Though I've a handful of pennies.
SF 1981 |
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