Her hands give her away, slender fingers, unpainted nails,
not too frail or delicate, able to grab hold of life and hold on.
She grasps less as straws than at gold rings she finds just
out of reach, envisioning herself as accomplished but not quiet enough to get
all that she believes she deserves, no aces up her sleeves, no rabbits in her
hat, and yet a magician who must some how make life pay off while she can still
live to enjoy it.
She is too impatient to wait, knowing enough about herself
that if she doesn’t get it now, she might never get it, and so life is a matter
of finding the right magic words to wave with her magic wand to make the box
open that supposedly contains all she could wish for.
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