I Am Poem on Jean-Dominique Bauby

November 10, 2009
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I am a white dove far away from freedom,
Sitting on a Redwood tree as the wind blows,
Afraid of having no family or friends.

The earth keeps spinning as I sit,
Silent, with no movement.
I am like an octagon yet like a circle.

Words, cultures, and memories speeding
Through my head like a red Ferrari.
Thinking about the delicious oysters
I could be eating during autumn makes
My mouth wet and makes me wish
I was as lucky as the number seven.

Hearing the beat of my own heart,
Like a man banging on a drum,
Only in slow motion.

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