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25 SOMETHING TO FILL IN OUR HOURS The losses can be large or small, they can be ragged, they can be deep. A step toward love, a step away. Human or animal, human as animal. When it had been simple. Or perhaps it was. Of being in this world, then not. A whisper, a brush, a tug to the sleeve. Sun in the eyes. An exhale. How long can we never mind and still persist, without disintegration ? Not saying when, where. Amidst this, the swirl, the cycle of seasons, of days, the insistence of forward, the pull towards the future—there’s a gap, a pause, a rift in the cement, the hemline, a crack in the plaster. And beyond? I was never much in this world. How easy it is to forget you have a body. (Desire made manifest: the passing figure on the sidewalk , the sun in her hair, hand to the dog’s taut leash—) Once inside the mind, there is no end. ...

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