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June/July 1993
June/July 1993
Simple Anna
Simple Anna liked the words

although she didn't understand

what many of them meant. Her man

sometimes could make them into worlds

where forests shaded green young girls.

The girls were always what she was when what she was was what she dreamed. By herself she never dreamed, not any more. A woman does such daylight things to what she is.

The words could be some country tree and she again Anne Hathaway, complex with what she still could be while watching in an English shade with all of heaven as a stage.

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