Volume 2, Number 1 -- January, 1997
Wicked and WittyI'm slow to turn.
As the room magically
shifts and sways and drags along
in the thick madness of what
my eyes perceive as real,
and I am slow to turn.
But I see you sitting there,
ending the glide of my sight
in your presence next to me,
and not knowing,
that all at once I recognize you.
I smile suddenly,
as I think of what to say,
thinking, 'she does not know me,
and may not even recognize me.'
But I pick my words,
and begin to construct the
universe around us.
In a sudden surge of patience.
The conversation begins.
by Jason Stephens (firstname.lastname@example.org)
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