February 19, 2005

Paper Lovers

They live, it seems,
all over the world,
and I am their
receptacle.

They pour their
thoughts
inside my
mailbox.
Sometimes, I feel
I'm watching the
Pandora story in reverse.

They sprinkle me
with words
and ignorance
and erudition
and always,
always questions.

Oh, I am no prophetess.
I am only
confused
and unashamed of it.

My paper lovers
seek their kind
of nakedness. I give
it to them freely.

They penetrate me
without cocks
or faces,
with only chaste white paper
as a surrogate

for them
for me.



Summer 2003.

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