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Terms and Conditions

All the information of her life is stored in her body.

Her children in her belly and her breasts.

Her confidence and ego in her back.

Her loves are held in her hips and thighs.

Every time she leaves the house,

The library of her soul is on display

To strangers, strange leering men

Who take what they want through their eyes.

Even in baggy sweats and a sweatshirt,

She’s the bookmobile for voracious readers.

When you hold her from behind, she cannot hide

Her face from the world in your shoulders.

She cannot ignore that your confidence to touch her

Does not come from her facial expression.

An act of trust, an act of intimacy, an act of sheer will,

Gives her more power than you can ever know.

It is her you hold, not her boobs, or her belly,

Or her hips and thighs.  You’re donating books

To the library of her soul, building the concordance

Of her loves, and the bibliography of her life.

Bracing your front against her back.

Pairing her most vulnerable with your least vulnerable.

Her body will remember when you took

An uncertain step toward an uncertain future

That ended with your arms around her waist,

Her head resting against your chest, and

Your breath on the back of her neck while

She faces the world full on.

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