Wednesday, May 20, 2009 which the sisters are beside themselves

The author's copies of Prisoner's Dilemma came today. The BOX was heavy, the scissors were sticky, there was way too much tape! It went like this---

Fireworks threatened to take the top off.
Wet palms twitched under eruptions of happiness.

Judgments collected under the awning like rain,
hummed against the shell of her ear. Her skull
slammed in her head. Payroll hands weighed the options
like so much gold.

Runaway shoes piled up, laces tangled
like tongues caught in a lie. Checkmark wings
on canvas heels had been tools toward anonymity,
erasing footprints where they fell, driving zigzag dogs crazy
as they nipped at nothing.

Each day had been a map of dark topographies.
Turning into a skid would only postpone
whatever came next.

Every step along a lucky streak
uncovers a foreign place tricked out
with new lies and silences. Rising up
to meet the path of great good fortune,
she could have done more, if you want to know.

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