Paul McCartney at Zilker Park

Let's workshop this poem about a deeply personal connection during a quiet moment of intimacy (presumably at a music festival in Austin, TX) and the comforting power of acceptance

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Paul McCartney at Zilker Park

Could you ever forget her,
the refuge of her: how, hearing
you squirm lifelong unease 

about palms always being
too sweaty, she would squeeze
her little hand—no—deeper

into yours and whisper toxicity
tones unfakeable in reassurance
“That’s the good stuff”?

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