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43 Edward Hopper’s “Nighthawks” Makes Me Dream of Murdering A Woman The naked horizontals of the restaurant’s window keep promising dawn and revelation but the shadows only deepen. That night I dream the glass has disappeared; there is no longer a barrier between my acquiescence and my need to kill. My heart agrees. My muscles flex as my arm swings up to throw an oversize axe; you know by now this place belongs to a woman who is still alive. Iwanttotakeherdown. Iwanttoseehertornandpeeledandbleeding. Iwanttothrottleher until she gives up her breath to my dead lover. But I know her. She has a husband who beats and terrorizes her. Like Hopper’s couples they will always be stuck together. They will never touch each other again. I’m grateful a framed window protects them. Grateful I’m constrained by daylight in the face of its helpless width. ...

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