Larry L. Dill's   New Hope Journal   Personal Essays and Public Opinions since 1979
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				Poetry from the New Hope Journal Cinema Verite We could have walked across The avenue in Paris, Gotten in the car and driven away, Instead of your looking longingly at me And going home. It always seems that way. No one ever really gets the girl. I lie in my solitary room in Texas now, Waving exiled fingers in the air. The ceiling fans flap back like frightened birds. And you…somewhere…presiding…queen Over my absence, Comb your hair and sleep, Your useless cobweb castles Dangling in the dark.                                          --Austin, 1988
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