8/22/99 9:55am
just before/as i am waking:

i am looking at a friend's journal that is open in front me. there is a poem scrawled in black ink on the page:

(paper dolls)

i am sick with love for you
so sick that i must buy
paper and red scissors
and cut out three of you
to make one.

m.k.

then i woke up.