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Spring 2005 - Volume 27, Number 2
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En Garde
There's twenty-six cents in my pocket and I'm walking alone by the dark musty gym on 23rd Street. Something in the stance of a fencer makes me stare at her calculated movements, footwork like a dance. The coarse vest is familiar, the angled elbows are my own, but my dueling days are over, I'm just standing in the rainy night hearing sirens rise and fall.
-By Evelyn Duffy
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