We appreciate the poetry

I could not begin to imagine the way it feels to dip into something so still, so strong, that the suffering of the world becomes just another song. I try. The sidewalk catches my eye or maybe it's the sunlight hitting something metal or glass and bouncing back. Or given a crowded set of stairs, I look at everyone's face for as long as I dare.

Most kids in America don't play marbles anymore, some must, and maybe some play outside under the sky and have a good clean shot. I'll take anything that makes it easier to look out from myself -- and what do I see? Glass marbles of the eyes, a good clean shot straight across the heart.

[for J.D. Salinger]

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