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I am the glue between here and here

by Diane Seuss

  • because I walk the state line like a railroad track.
  • Train is a question I carry in my womb. Every girl
  • needs a pink purse for holding questions,
  • and the answers vibrate up through the soles
  • of her church shoes. My shoes are not on the wrong
  • feet. I am not cross-eyed or rabbit-eyed. Only one
  • albino in town and he ain’t me, but I’m mixed up.
  • Hair stylist is an egg beater. When I was coming up
  • my food was library paste and cracker sandwiches.
  • Well read. Well fed. Now that I’ve bled I can stroll
  • the incision between there and there. I represent,
  • like a town queen, but bigger. Like a grain elevator,
  • but without the combustible dust. If you ride a slow
  • pony along some edge, you’ll know. One foot
  • in the land of milkweed, the other in the land of rust.

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