Concentration

You were bent over
a small table, painting fine
things for sale. The crowds

kept us apart. I
kept staring. You were supposed
to be dead. I knew

the shoulders (you loved
to swim). I felt your concen-
tration. I knew it

was you when I choked
up and nobody noticed.
You drew a deep breath.

Author: Tom D'Evelyn

Tom D'Evelyn is a private editor and writing tutor in Cranston RI and, thanks to the web, across the US and in the UK. He can be reached at tom.develyn@comcast.net. D'Evelyn has a PhD in Comparative Literature from UC Berkeley. Before retiring he held positions at The Christian Science Monitor, Harvard University Press, Boston University and Brown University. He ran a literary agency for ten years, publishing books by Leonard Nathan and Arthur Quinn, among others. Before moving to Portland OR he was managing editor at Single Island Press, Portsmouth NH. He blogs at http://tdevelyn.com and other sites.

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