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Poetry

My mysterious affair with Mr. Loneliness in four scenes

By Nahal Naficy
July 4, 2003
The Iranian

Hey,
Mr. Loneliness,
I buy an ice cream from you everyday!
I hear your bells
As you approach me in the shape of an old Mexican man
Limping behind a happy cart
With smiling pink panthers and flying dipped cones
Squeaking, squeaking
Squeaking, squeaking
I eat my hamburger and French fries with you
When you come in and sit next to me at the bar counter
And order a beer
And order your eyes to watch football
On a small, muted TV
I get out and walk the streets after you every other night
When you play hide and seek with me
Disappearing behind the strangely-shaped oaks
Calling me from the hoo hoo of an owl who flies away from me
In and out of the nightly mist
I hear you on the leaves
I hear you move
And I shrink
When I feel you touch me
I cuddle with you in the middle of the night
When you crawl in my bed with icy feet
And enter me gently
Like a kind monster
And I share my madness with you
And I sweat away my fear
And I go back to sleep.

-- Houston
December 2002

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