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Friday, October 4

Oregon sidewalk Friday morning


Her eyes, clear and young
and sadly hopeful:
I will write you a poem
to keep me warm.
"compassion" I asked
for there had been so little
that morning
and I could still taste
the tears on my tongue.
She repeated, compassion,
and bent to her tiny typewriter
on the sidewalk
before her.
I only have two words she said
when I came back.
I should have asked her what they were but
I pressed folded bills into her hand
and told her I would be back
but now I want the two words
because maybe
just maybe
that's all it takes
all it needs
to pierce your heart.

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