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April 2, 2008
I look at the clipper on the shelf. How can I make him smile? I pick him up. The metal is cold in my hand. I turn him to face out into the room. He still wears a look of desperation. I open the wing, turning it into the lock position. He could be skating. Finding another clipper, I open it and set it, also open, at an angle to the first. They are suddenly in motion and talking. The chrome wings are paired, and the tension in the short space between their heads is electric. Dragonfly, they are ascending.