We had to fetch iron ladders from the blacksmith shop. Bobby, a strong man with a handkerchief tied around his head, loudly announces to my friend, “Shahrzad is here.” My friend laughs, introduces me, and says that this time I really came with Shahrzad, the poet and writer. I quickly remember Elizabeth Bishop’s words: “There’s nothing more embarrassing than being a poet, really.” It’s comforting to hear myself thinking from another mind. Bobby extends his fist, and I lightly tap it with mine. It is a new thing for me. I am not in my world and what is my world meaning? We load the iron ladders onto the car and hit the road. I like long roads. Hello dear Elizabeth!
The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster…
By Elizabeth Bishop
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