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Letters And You
Poem by Daphne Guzmán
Photo by Deborah Guzmán
Just in case I was starting
to get comfortable, you
make an overt gesture
to let me know my time
is up. Having no class
to ring a bell or pat my back—
you spring
nervously from my company
and run like hell in the other direction. I stand
bewildered, wondering
how personable I can possibly be. “Very”
I decide,
“This kid don’t know shit.” Indeed
I am personable. Able to fine tune
the degree of madness I put off.
Holding back punches for when I decide
I really hate you. And don’t worry
because when I find you I’ll empty
the contents of my mind all over
you, till you are so soaked with me
that I start to spill on the floor.
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