Saturday, 20 April:

Printing ten fresh page sets of Ed’s chapbook while folding the first ten. Had 100 covers printed today, though the Copy Center printer was churning them out a garish orange no matter what I tried doing to the Publisher file; eventually I compromised on a reddish orange one but then—amazingly—they came out darker and more acceptably red from the same PDF file. Who knows why?


But it happened, I want to say to no one, his hands
all over me in restaurant, grasping my own
and guiding them to his firmness beneath
those baggy cargo shorts, and I nearly gasped
at how far I was willing to fall for this boy. All day
we walked and the city became ours because
he was beside me, holding hands, stopping to watch
a crew of shirtless guys playing baseball, his fingers
laced through the chain link, his daring
grin: That one . . . And because for half that brief
summer we were there, were seen–even if 
by strangers, even thousands of strangers–I’ve blurred
through the past five years hoping stupidly 
it could happen again.

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