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  • Each friend represents a world in us, a world not born
    until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a
    new world is born.
    Anais Nin

    I live on a street called Rose.
    You live on Tennessee Williams Avenue.

    Maybe one day we will meet
    in the Whole Foods Market

    while we scoop crunchy granola.
    I will look deep into your eyes.

    We will talk about the weather
    and conjugate verbs in Suburbanese.

    You will ask me out for a crème de menthe.
    I will blush. You will ask again.

    I will protest, and tell you
    alas, it is all so difficult,

    so difficult here in Middle America.
    It was easier when we travelled

    on borrowed passports
    under assumed names.

    Putting a bottle of Apple Cider
    in my basket, I will look at you

    with a long meaningful glance.
    We will arrange a rendezvous

    in some future lifetime.
    I will be the Queen of Catalina.

    You will be the King of Hearts.
    We will exchange telephone numbers,

    writing them secretively
    on the backs of some Bonus Bingo cards.

    I will make plans to become fluent
    in at least three more languages.

    Well, if not in Whole Foods
    maybe in the Laundro-Kwik

    Or you will move away,
    or I will move away.

    And it all will have that undefined quality
    of nostalgia that you feel

    when the thing that you had hoped
    for so long would happen

    never happens, and that feeling
    of cautious anticipation that you have

    waiting by the telephone
    for a call that you never realize

    will probably never come.

    (Photograph by Alex in the 3-D virtual world of Second Life)
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