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53 THINK฀OF฀THE฀WORDS lost฀to฀a฀short฀pencil,฀words฀like฀milk, eggs,฀celery,฀gone฀to฀the฀library,฀I fed฀the฀cats฀all฀flying฀through฀it, using฀it฀up.฀฀And฀that฀eraser฀coming฀down, those฀second฀thoughts,฀that฀how-do-you-spell-that, those฀changes฀of฀heart—serious,฀be฀gone!—when a฀line฀drawn฀through฀whatever฀word฀ would฀do.฀฀When฀a฀single฀shoe appears฀in฀the฀street,฀think of฀the฀scramble.฀฀Someone฀lifted,฀carried฀off,฀ someone฀running,฀someone฀that฀ distraught,฀that฀drunk฀or indifferent,฀that฀something.฀฀(Who’s฀right? my฀brother฀asked฀my฀mother before฀any฀overwrought฀TV.)฀฀No,฀erase. Delete.฀฀If฀we฀revisit the฀pencil,฀I’d฀write฀a฀few฀more฀words to฀wear฀it฀down.฀฀I’m฀all฀worn฀out,฀I฀heard again฀and฀again฀through฀my฀childhood.฀฀Three generations฀after฀supper,฀such฀ mulling฀for฀the฀night.฀฀Worn฀out?฀฀I฀thought฀ of฀a฀tire—you฀can’t฀get฀a฀penny in฀its฀tread—or฀pants฀out฀at฀the฀knee,฀shirts฀ thin฀at฀the฀elbow,฀never฀who฀ we฀really฀are,฀life฀that฀ seems฀unstoppable.฀฀Never฀the฀small,฀ hard฀eraser฀at฀the฀end฀of฀it.฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ ...

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