does a woman have mercy?
A woman can't be Shakespeare so must make herself . Yet poverty or paralysis'll dog her life but not to trot but to tear up the streets along Sherbrooke (my turf! someone said it was resonating my turf) (I loved that man) street the night of longer distance hunger the golden mile the long distance street of loneliness
That must be Jill's hug memory she's memoried a strong box tale of a dog. yes, Moses was the caliber my lover. A smell taste of near to forty yrs later. That's a smell!
What she forgot her curliecue ear but her remembered the other smells.
No, that's too dramatic by half. Wasn't like that at all was it now? Shipping down Montreal from Parais and the boxes of night and