Writing/Prose
Afraid it sounds too much like poetry,
I start again climbing four hundred steps
in a foreign clime looking at views.
A woman descending tells me,
Be careful; they will knock you on the head
and take your gold.
Fearing they will not recognize
I wear no gold chains, I nonetheless
climb the stairs again and again.
—Carmi Soifer
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a different version of this poem appeared in "Slow-Dancer", volume 26, 1991