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43 Vivé Griffith Paradelle for My Parents My father, my mother says, is the sweetest man she’s ever known. My father, my mother says, is the sweetest man she’s ever known. Sweet, after years, after treachery and tragedy. Sweet, after years, after treachery and tragedy. Treachery is sweet, my father says, after my mother. After the sweetest years and man, she’s tragedy ever known. His eyes for the first time cerulean. His eyes for the first time cerulean. Not the steel sky of the day he left his key. Not the steel sky of the day he left his key. The day he left for the first time, his eyes not the cerulean sky of his steel key. Now she dances alone in an empty house. Now she dances alone in an empty house. Now he dances with girls in a crowded bar. Now he dances with girls in a crowded bar. With girls alone, in a crowded house, in an empty bar, he dances now, she dances now. After cerulean years, his treachery dances, his crowded girls not the tragedy. My father is a man of empty eyes. After the first day—she sweet steel, he keys in house, in bar— the sky says he left an ever known. For now she’s alone and my mother dances with the sweetest time. ...

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