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All night Tippi and I lie with our armswrapped around each otherlike rope.I bury my face in her neckand she wakes every now and thento kiss the top of my head
Your mother made me
just in case, she said,
which kinda freaked me out,
so I said to her,
Da Man is fine, babe.
The building is white,ivy eating its way up the broken walls,windows smalland scratched.
The walls of the room are white and clean -all sign's of yesterdays sorrows scrubbedaway with bleach.
She is not here.Not beside me in bednor in the roomat all.
It has happened
When I was little
Mom would read me
a book each night
then tuck me in
and my forehead.
would be at work
This is my story.It is mine alone because I am the one who needsto tell it.I am the one who is still here,no longer stage right but
Slurping up the last of my frozen yogurt,I overhear someone say,'Being a Simese twin has got to beThe WorstThing Ever.'
I am on the bathroom floorscreeching,Tippi shaking me back into the world.