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A Poem: Tin Pan 5 

It must have been a very large bird for me to see it so far away in the sky. Then I lost sight of it completely as it was now out of view of our apartment window. I went back to reading Catcher on and off. “There was this record I wanted to get for Phoebe, called ‘Little Shirley Beans.’ It was a hard record to get. It was about a little kid that wouldn’t go out of the house because two of her front teeth were out and she was ashamed to.” This is really boring shit. Some moments later I looked out the window again. I was content to just sit with Miranda in the kitchen feeding little Valencia. Then I thought I saw the bird again, but it wasn’t. Floating away, higher and higher, were three balloons, red, white and blue. They were not as interesting or graceful as the white bird. They were probably let go by some child from the local Brooklyn festival. Then they were gone. Their time was over I thought. I am sure no one from the festival cared. I imagined the child’s stare didn’t last long either, I am sure.

I soon forgot too. I went back to boring myself with Salinger’s classic. I was content.

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