by Karin Gottshall<\/strong><\/p>\n Sometimes I say I\u2019m going to meet my sister at the caf\u00e9\u2014 I read a novel in which two sisters were constantly meeting someone might ask where I was headed. I bought nothing. I carried a bag of books to the caf\u00e9 and ordered like the difference between azure and cerulean, from her hair. I thought, even now florists are filling American Life in Poetry: Column 327. By Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate, 2004-2006<\/p>\n Some of us have more active fantasy lives than others, but all of us have them. Here Karin Gottshall, who lives in Vermont, shares a variety of loneliness that some of our readers may have experienced.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" More Lies by Karin Gottshall Sometimes I say I\u2019m going to meet my sister at the caf\u00e9\u2014 even though I have no sister\u2014just because it\u2019s such a beautiful thing to say. I\u2019ve always thought so, ever since I read a novel in which two sisters were constantly meeting in caf\u00e9s. Today, for example, I walked […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-7386","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","category-uncategorized","entry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/idealpoetry.com\/rwc\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7386","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/idealpoetry.com\/rwc\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/idealpoetry.com\/rwc\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/idealpoetry.com\/rwc\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/idealpoetry.com\/rwc\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7386"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/idealpoetry.com\/rwc\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7386\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/idealpoetry.com\/rwc\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7386"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/idealpoetry.com\/rwc\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7386"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/idealpoetry.com\/rwc\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7386"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\neven though I have no sister\u2014just because it\u2019s such
\na beautiful thing to say. I\u2019ve always thought so, ever since<\/p>\n
\nin caf\u00e9s. Today, for example, I walked alone
\non the wet sidewalk, wearing my rain boots, expecting<\/p>\n
\na steno pad and a watch battery, the store windows
\nfogged up. Rain in April is a kind of promise, and it costs<\/p>\n
\ntea. I like a place that\u2019s lit by lamps. I like a place
\nwhere you can hear people talk about small things,<\/p>\n
\nand the price of tulips. It\u2019s going down. I watched
\nsomeone who could be my sister walk in, shaking the rain<\/p>\n
\ntheir coolers with tulips, five dollars a bundle. All over
\nthe city there are sisters. Any one of them could be mine.<\/p>\n