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Still life with James Franco

James climbed out of his crib
in spiderman pajamas.
After spinning webs
resembling past presidents’ faces
during bath time,
his mother knew her son’s talent was a gift.
At age 3, James vowed to be in Of Mice and Men
on Broadway and cry profound cries.
When I was a baby, witches
brewed poison from rats in my closet.
I also played “teacher” with my sister,
making her do reading exercises
while I watched her fail my exams.
James would agree
that some dreams come true
but not that all dreams are true.
For example, James and me are published
in the same really cool online literary journal.
My poem is called Still Life with Karen Carpenter
and his, published much later,
is called Directing Herbert White.
He says his first person narrator 
is wearing a mask 
(“or two”).
My first person narrator
is wearing a a whole city of masks.
I guess I beat James at that.
I guess we all did. 
Posted 04/29/14
Everyone is writing a James Franco poem, so here is mine.
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