Wink
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—So she preferred only surfaces. The eye

a color and nothing more; the river skimming

its banks without stopping to think it over.


What was below was simply agitation:

no concern of hers. He might tilt his head

a fraction, but she had had enough of angles.


She was no star-gazer, no mathematician

in hiding. She was just the time it took to look

both ways, to move without suggestion.

 

From Purr by Mary Ann Samyn
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