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It was so simple and so not.

The father speaking French, me ppidgin

bald a sinner. I kneeled, confessed as best

as I cold using all the words I knew – the hot

coleur of my anger – et autres choses for those

other things of which here I cannot speak

because outside the confines of the confessional

all things remain sanctified, sacred and unspoken.

]I left bright – claire, blonded, gleaming,

sanctified, purified: simple, free

a child running down the aisle of St. Sulpice.

09/23/05 , St. Sulpice, Paris , France

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