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Volume 3 | Issue 1 | September 2008 | 

Neighbors: 26 March 2003
Jean Anaporte-Easton

“How are you?” my neighbor
calls as I lug the stone
weight in my belly up
the steps to my house.

“The war,” I venture,
watching her face.
She nods, she says
“I lie awake at night

on my clean white
sheet and think
about the people there…”
She falters. We are moving

toward each other. “Shame,
I offer. “Shame,” she accepts—
that’s exactly it.” We look, brown
to blue, into each others eyes.

The ornamental pear extends
its frilly white buds over us.
We embrace in the late sun.
“Take care.” “You too.”
We part

and close our doors.

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