*"My dear, I know all I care to know."
-A matriarch's response to my suggesting she attend the nearby college
*
Living teaches dance, not answers.
Seat time prompts observing as a way through
down time, as the trains resound still lonely
in contrast to the way we thought they would arrive,
The waves of knowing turn to palp,
and lionized parasite's reduced to powder.
Heaven amounts to manu-fictured
books we ought to write.
Plot alleged to equal anchor
resists the concept of condensed book.
With effort, she and I can make talk
even after she has lifted from our place.
Nothing that has disappointed me before
retains the fuel it had then.
She remains one of the plants,
and I elect to listen to her grow.
sheila e. murphy
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