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  Sandy Florian
Sandy Florian
Sandy Florian's first book, Telescope, is published by Action Books. Her first chapbook, 32 Pedals & 47 Stops, is published by Tarpaulin Sky Press. Her poetry and prose appears in over 35 national and international journals including Slope, bird dog, New Orleans Review, Bombay Gin, and Word for Word.

from
32 Pedals & 47 Stops



Sandy Florian
. . .

Two six-year-old twin girls dressed in matching flared skirts of tattered blue chiffon sit side-by-side in a very old chair. The chair, once coupled with an old post office desk, swivels, rocks and glides across a painted hardwood floor. The floor is gray. The floor is slanted. The floor is sooty from years of foot-traffic. Above the girls, a sign hangs cockeyed from a nail stuck into the aqua wall. Marked with black magic marker, the sign reads, "English Only Spoken." The twins are the only two people in the room.

Someone enters the room. It is The Moment. To The Moment, the girls are merely interchangeable characters of a simple plan. To the girls, The Moment is the ghost of that which cannot be aroused. The sign still reads, "English Only Spoken," but now, there are three people in the room: The two identical twins and The Moment.

Between the identical twins there is a distortion lens. To each, the other seems a gigantic imitation of the original, replete with two big eyes, a bulbous nose and two invisible ears. Hence, when The Moment proclaims, in English, "I pronounce you King and Queen," the two girls look at one another, and pronounce the other King.

You are the King of Kentucky.
You are the King of Katmandu.
You are the King of Kabala.
The King of Kansas.
The King of Kaleidoscopic Teardrop Eyes.


. . .

A middle-aged woman dressed in an teal colored dress and teal colored shoes walks on a straight sidewalk. The sidewalk is flanked on one side with tinted storefront windows. It is flanked on the other with a deep street. The sidewalk is rippled with uneven bricks. Above the woman a signs is inscribed on a canvas marquee. The sign reads, "Virginia is for Lovers." Beneath the sign, the woman's reflection beams through the storefront window.

Someone passes the woman. It is The Moment. To the Moment, the woman is a sign of things to come. To the woman, The Moment is the middle-aged woman reflected in the glass. The sign flaps reasonably in the wind.

Between the woman and her own reflection there is a dark veneer. To each, the other seems an insufficient dissatisfaction in the growing world. Hence, when The Moment proclaims, in English, "I pronounce you not guilty," the two reflections look at one another and pronounce the other not.

You are Not My Nepenthe.
You are Not My Necessity.
You are Not Natural.
Not Native.
You are Nobody's Narcissi.



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