THE JEDI MASTER
My grocery bag stares at me as if
I’m the enemy. Hans Solo holds his
gun, the Wookie towers over him.
Princess Leia clings to his walking
furball waist. Carrie, draped in white,
like now, six feet under, boys still
ogling her and her two pinwheel curls.
Skywalker, the kid, bends down reaches
out, shaky hand of a jedi-in-training. Is
It I...
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