Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Studying

I open my book and stare
trying to catch meanings of words that run
together, eluding me, eloping maybe to some Vegas dictionary
or training for some Oxford English marathon.
But instead of finding the key to John Locke,
all I can think about is the quiet girl
who sells me little boxes of laundry detergent or turns my tens
into rolls of quarters, but never returns my smiles.

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