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Looking around the tiny apartment I see
wine glasses on the window sill
each filled with paint
Secretly I long for the day when
I can fill a thirty dollar glass
with watercolors

too hard, he says, to keep breathing
to rise again
Id rather stare at the inside of my eyelids
smooth and linen heavy
than awake to kiss the champagne morning

I could be an angel
on the backyard swing, pumping my legs
to soar above the stars
I could have it all.

3 October 2000