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I Don’t Like Being in Love, by SANDRA CISNEROS

Not like this. Not tonight,

a white stone. When you’re 36

and seething like sixteen

next to the telephone,

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and you don’t know where.

And worse--with whom?

I don’t care

for this fruit. This Mexican

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love hidden in the boot. This

knotted braid. Birthcord buried

beneath the knuckle of the heart.

Cat at the window scratching at

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the windswept moon

scurrying along, scurrying along.

Rattling trees. Screen

doors banging raspy.

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Brain a whorl of swirling fish. Oh,

I don’t like this. I don’t

like this.

From “Loose Woman” by Sandra Cisneros. (Knopf: $16.) 1994 Reprinted by permission.

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