7 Mar 2005, 10:22am
Writing
by David


Going to See

I hope she has hands
like a fat masseuse
skilled and soft
touching everyone’s
shoulders and arms;
each person’s sweat’s
wrung out on the next
she touches (temples
and the footsoles stiffen)
the plain smells confound
her the oils go sadly
off she rubs touching
lower, harder
in her place there is      no clock.

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