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1 Poem by Scott Wannberg |
Her voice Her voice wanted to declare war on everybody unlucky enough to fall under its spell but when she went to count her weapons there was a large hole in the sheet music. She really didn't want to declare war if she had no weapons so she became love and ran out into the noisy street singing about her heart's capacity to take in all ruin. I was stumbling aroud that afternoon looking for a comfortable pair of shoes and an even more comfortable pair of legs that lived in them Her voice climbed into my lunchpail and wouldn't stop eating whatever it was that meant to see me through. We are a nation of avid consumers, we eat what we can't believe or see, but in the eating we exercise, and her voice drove me to the edge of the three day convention of empty pockets and emptier eyes, where all rivers wind up rowing their memories Her voice wanted to name me but when I went to see if anybody was home the lights went out and the song we swore we'd kill for sure if we ever heard it again roared through us and we became communities of loud obstreperous good will.
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