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August 4, 2008
I try

to remember

conversations I heard

at seven

changes in my room

foul smell

of cigarettes

unchanged sheets

city air

through my window

quiet unmemorable

always

it seemed about me

but everything is me at seven

numbing yells

from other rooms

down cold hallways

calculated pauses

quiet, shelved disdain

its at this moment

that the real memories come

the cool air of Central Park

sliding ponds

the laughter

of other children

I live there you know

live there even now

in snow, flashes of snow

white tapestry

spread out and cut

by ribbons

of icy pavement

where I slide