One Act Opera
I fell in love with her sorrows.
We shared a mail-box for wordless hungers.
Passion maimed us,
even I shed tears, sensing
a Puccini last act approaching.
She read herself in my face.
I gave her news;
long-range forecasts
of more disappointments to come.
Lastly she phoned her mom;
she alone on that stage
she had erected for all such
one act
theatrical performances.
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