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60 Upon Seeing a Former Lover Pull Up next to Me at the intersection of Metaphysics Lane and Memorial Drive What are the odds you would pull up alongside me in traffic, your husband, stolid, handsome, blissfully unaware, and you, languorous, lolling your arm out the window, your Marlboro Light 100 dangling like my life, your eyes like the sign for infinity? Only slightly less likely than the vast mathematical chances of Marilyn Monroe and Albert Einstein pulling up in a red Mini Cooper, Marilyn beaming in her white dress, her legs on the dashboard, Albert bemused, the wind like a theorem in his hair, having come from some universe of physics and longing, some world infinitely better than this one, some cosmos where lovers go parallel parking, a place they have found where love makes more sense, where I could reach out, take your hand within my own, say I love you forever before the wind picks up, before your smile fades, before the light begins to change. ...

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