Once upon a time I had a little book of Sylvia Plath's poetry. Like Patti, i had Ariel sometime in my early twenties. I found a four leaf clover. I placed it inside Sylvia Plath's book like a talisman against all that could go wrong. I found a six leaf clover. I placed it, too, inside Sylvia Plath's book, a double talisman, a surety of g…
Once upon a time I had a little book of Sylvia Plath's poetry. Like Patti, i had Ariel sometime in my early twenties. I found a four leaf clover. I placed it inside Sylvia Plath's book like a talisman against all that could go wrong. I found a six leaf clover. I placed it, too, inside Sylvia Plath's book, a double talisman, a surety of good luck, somewhere, sometime, surely. Years later a friend came to visit. She was sick, very sick, dying. I found Ariel, opened it up, took out the four leaf clover, and asked that its luck spare my friend. She lived. I threw the four leaf clover away and thanked it, as I felt I had used up all my luck. My friend is still alive. All of this is true.
Once upon a time I had a little book of Sylvia Plath's poetry. Like Patti, i had Ariel sometime in my early twenties. I found a four leaf clover. I placed it inside Sylvia Plath's book like a talisman against all that could go wrong. I found a six leaf clover. I placed it, too, inside Sylvia Plath's book, a double talisman, a surety of good luck, somewhere, sometime, surely. Years later a friend came to visit. She was sick, very sick, dying. I found Ariel, opened it up, took out the four leaf clover, and asked that its luck spare my friend. She lived. I threw the four leaf clover away and thanked it, as I felt I had used up all my luck. My friend is still alive. All of this is true.