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• 117 Face I take the magnifying glass to our photo tacked here all this time. Quick sand under your eyes. I forgot. What was I looking for anyway? To see what the shining is behind us, my eyes closed, my head slightly bowed, you looking so freely into my face. The chrome of my mother’s car. I thought we were sitting in the Bayshore. We are standing in the dark outside her car. It is night on the beach and my birthday, the ocean is pounding and roaring and yes, that part’s memory. Now I’m looking. Falling into your face again beyond the chemicals and image that trap us, into the womb under your eyes, across the polar cheekbones. The mystics say we have another face the original one. This love defies even them. I never looked without seeing what they say only in wisdom can be seen. ...

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