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Sylvia
Sylvia sends me letters
folded in the folds of the continuum —
she's outside of time now
with her crystals and flames
that ring when you touch them.
Sylvia sends me letters saying
“I was a secretary then,
but now I'm the secret.
Please don't be sad about it
unless you have to be.”
Syliva sends me letters —
I'm in the Killarney Bar,
in downtown Manhattan —
Every little thing, you know,
is a part of eternity.
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