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Because of the stone angels high in sunlight Immortal Paris! and because of the occasional small pillars | ||
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I tripped. My travel guide flopped off like a butterfly. My feet, unused to flying kept on walking | ||
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and face first I flew over pink stone into the sidewalk. | ||
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My nose dripped two drops of blood two tiny roses | ||
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then with the fever of burst faucets, drenched hands, hankies, sleeves, chin, and that uncaring street where I sat spellbound at myself. I clamped my hand to my nose. | ||
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Without thread, without glue my body took charge. Cells to the rescue! Small experts aiming white spears and fibrin coagulant weapons beyond my comprehension, delicate artisans putting sunlight back into my skin. | ||
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A community within my own shores, had set up pavilions was sharing my life, and even as I wondered, my nose stopped bleeding. | ||
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I left dry stains to fade into stone and took with me the healing. My life is filled with life a small companionable city. | ||