The Steel Artichoke


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In the square they point me out: There she goes, they say, it’s the artichoke lady. They think I got that name because I dress in green and wear my love locks all a-tangle, letting them trail like ivy down my back. Foolish boys. My heart was an oyster, brating in its cloistered bed of joy; it held a pearl, a perfect opalescent speck within the sea. A cortex came, and pluck from depths no…