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Contents Page: Jan 1, 2012, vol 7 no 4

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Marjorie Thomsen

Private Showing

There were at least ten performances of the rain last night. I catch a late show, lucky to have scored a seat in my king-size bed. I wear a t-shirt with tiny purple flowers on it, no matching bottoms. The downpour is raucous with its self-congratulating applause! Broadway in my bedroom. Eager to shake hands with the soaking stars, I open the window wider; my nipples awaken to that almost-summer smell. My husband comes in and I remind him to put coins under our daughter's pillow.

clouds and children
there's the immortality
of one not the other

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