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Before Now
by Flor de té  


             To: Dulcinea
             at whatever spot
             our naivete has
             and will still take us


over fifty years ago
in Manhattan
Ted Jones yells at me

let the   man breathe!

a few years ago
up by Sacramento

the man

runs a fifty-miler
with me   as his pacer

on the trail   we run
past the wounded scene

from Gone With the Wind
runners on the ground


we do


I am
this man's vitrine

I contain a comb
from a Spanish conch he gave me

a brooch   of lapis lazuli
a fired brown horse

a brown agate ring
from a stone

he tumbled for me

I contain from him
a bracelet of jade

Arizona turquoise
a stained glass mobile


In New York

I fall
for a table
at a walk up

for the candle
on top of the table
a ceramic bottle

for the candle's gnarls
of the bottle



I fall
for posters on walls

by Miro
Kandinsky and Klee

for Sartre's
Being and Nothingness

Jackson Pollack

my favorite   Stein

I ask her
would he have me
if I ask him

if I ask him
would he have me


he asks me

would you like
your first cup of coffee

in your cup
tall  in ceramic white  white milk

a flat teaspoon of instant  exactly
your second of today   less instant

your first
of tomorrow?


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