… I've got to believeMy grief will end. I can’t see myself,I speak in panic outside a Malibu fishCounter, Pacific slippery as bed silk.My friend says she sees me anyway,Feeds me cold tinned juice. You’re rightHere. She's laughing as motorcycles roarPast as chrome American hog dazzlers.I’ll sing the worlds ‘til you remember them.
-Emily Vizzo
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