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By Martin Jones

One day it happens and you vanish,

maybe as you ponder verbs in Spanish,

strange to think, or worse, outlandish.


First, though, make of your imagination

an atomic habit, not just inclination.


Perhaps a love affair grows sadly sour

or the fellow never brings you flowers,

why not imagine vanishing an hour.


Or worse – you find a way to trash all hope,

but not calamitous enough for rope,

vanish with forged papers and you will cope.


Should we practice absence now, or soon?

Maybe learn to vanish in a crowded room

or for longer, like the far face of the moon.


One does not wish to banish all belief,

nor consider losing spouse or kids a big relief,

but each day steal a quiet hour like a thief


to vanish into daydreams or to thought

not of all those baubles that we’ve sought


but of noble passions, loves that harrow hell,

then, from all of this, learn to vanish well.


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