I smiled and she smiled back, but no one in the room knew I was reading this poem to her. I said the title of the poem, “Choosing an Illusion.” He...e is the poem I read:Choosing an illusion doesn’t make my life less real.And if I care to sing instead of crawling on my hands and kneesholding up a bleeding heart,the sunrise still will sparkle on the lakeand through the trees. Morning has no pityas it marches through the sky.The choice is ours to shrink behind a rock, complaining until we die,or. "She smiled and made a half-turn away from him and then she lifted the dress and pulled it off over her head. She wondered what kind of a look she ought to give him. He still had the cigar in his mouth and she could hardly see his face because of the smoke.She decided to look demure. She held her hands in front of her body as she turned to face him again. She pushed one knee forward and to the side to give him a better view of her legs. The flesh- colored stockings were held up by straps. More

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