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coping (more or less) 243 Something Someone Said Andrea S. Gereighty Chocolates hang red gold foil hearts on the tree three women speak at dusk. Ushers in tuxedos fuss with parishioners’ tickets we glide past nods into the poinsettia incense baroque choir subverts space light fills the eschatological silence Outside in the cantaloupe sky, faces of houses waken as porch lights click in that moment at dusk when it’s three shades lighter than gun-metal grey peace can turn melancholy if thoughts are not exercised carefully, the way a runner would stretch out before a race. Train daily; idleness makes 7 pm a vulnerable hour. Watch for it, that bad section of road in your mind jagged in the unfamiliar fading light glance at your watch; doorknobs come and go minutes move you through two hours 9 pm eases tension: write, read, take a bath. The night from this side of the city resembles Manhattan: subways, lights, taxis, people; Broadway, not St. Charles Avenue. ...

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