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I went on google images just now
and stared at your face in a thousand
poses. And every now and then among
the different yous, for reasons I still
don’t get, there’d be juxtaposed right
next to you something not-you. A girl
on a horse, say, or Clint Black, or
the periodic table. Needless to say,
this was distracting. Then suddenly I
thought, but no, it’s true! You are a
girl on a horse! You are Clint Black!
You are the periodic table! And I fell
headlong into the chasm of knowing all
your metaphors at once, was ravished
by the army of your chameleon selves.