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He’s Not Fond Of Stories

he says. Not
an apartment.
A nursing home
in disguise.

Every single thing
his eye lands on is gray
dark from heavy rain
that just won’t quit
hidden dangers
in every shadow–
mistakes, tricks,
all the traps the world has set out
for the foolish or unprepared

In a story
the love of
a dog
a small, winsome child
or a sweet old lady
with a sparkle in her eye
would save him.

But he’s not fond of stories
or the things they hold.
This is real life
and he refuses
to open
those impossible doors.

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