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John fled the city eyes and took refuge in libraries (books smelling the same no matter where you are). Sequestered in dim-lit corners, he pressed his face against spines and dug fingernails into old leather. Jane, he whispered, Oh God--Jane, they still smell like you. |
So John's long dead girlfriend Jane was either an avid book reader or a librarian. After he lost her, his whole world fell apart and he became a transient, a roamer. No matter where he went, though, he could not escape the memory of Jane. These three poems you have written are quite interesting. You should write some more. I like them very much. Then again, I always like your poetry. Jane, Jane, Jane. | Posted on 2007-09-18 00:00:00 | by manwithnoname | [ Reply to This ] | Ah! i have read all three now and i must say well done! this (these) are an instant fave now that i have it all together. This is an interesting story. It catches my attention and i want to know what happens next! when you post new installments of this series ecpect comments from me. | Wonderful Job. Misty | Posted on 2007-09-17 00:00:00 | by misty_of_moon | [ Reply to This ] | |