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Jump Ropes and Jigsaws

By Jakesiegler, San Diego, CA

Her mother works at a beat-up Bennigans, half heartedly.
Counting tips the same way her daughter counts puzzle pieces, the big ones first
The walls of the restaurant are notorious shadow stealers, and by the time the mother leaves her shift, not even her shadow dares to follow her into the alleyway.
She walks, knee-deep in her own puddles of regret, hands glued to her piles of debt.
Cold, jacket-less she climbs,
Climbs the very stairs that the druglords dealt on, that the newlyweds met on, and that the bum slept on.
Opens, opens the very door the landlord raided, that the British invaded, that the architect from they'renevergonnamakeit Inc. created.
New York streets she sees: Lit up at day by dreams, at night by greed.

The daughter, the daughter plays hopscotch over her own fears.

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