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someone asked me what I am going to wear
to the party.
I am going to wear butter on cornbread. 
I am going to wear everything but the kitchen sink.
to wear -- a walk across a frozen lake to kiss you stupidly next to a balsam fir pine turned red.
I am going to wear blush. 
matching gloves and tight knit socks
that I thought I lost in a box I packed once. 
twelve birthday candles and fourteen more. 
I am going to wear words like a textbook wears flowers.
-- I am going. an atlas like a robe, its wool spun yarn like the road
is all I know. it's all I know.

 

filippo brunelleschi
 

[image: Umberto Brunelleschi]