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There was a moment in time and space no distance can erase when she was standing on an island in the middle of Times Square, cars whirling around from all directions, their Technicolor taillights additive to Big Apple illuminations, and she, the conductor of this current of motion and light thought she was somewhere over the rainbow, someplace called Manhattan, imagined since 7 or 8 or 9 or 10, a crystal country there, where some dreams come true for a small town girl, her byline, a poet of a faraway island of no skyline.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2014

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