Living With This
One persistent violet you could see clearly. Like a dark dog it lingered,
made a cup in the snow with its curiously heavy “body.”  Eventually,
you gestured it indoors.  There it filled the room.  No one could press
through it. Or anyway that's what you believed.  It was like being way out 
in a boat and looking down into water—not seeing into it, but knowing
you could not find the bottom.  Maybe living with this violet would help
you recognize others, when you saw them, if you saw them.
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