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won't you celebrate with me by Lucille Clifton Won't you celebrate with me? What I have shaped into a kind of life? I had no model born in Babylon, both non white and women. What did I see to be except myself? I made it up here on this bridge between Starshine and clay, my one hand holding tight. My other hand. Come celebrate with me that every day something has tried to kill me and has failed. Truffle gateau. The pairing chocolate pairs with wine, beer, whisky, champagne and cheese. Locating the cheese department of HDB. All houses where men have lived and died are haunted houses through the open doors. The harmless phantoms on their errands glide with feet that make no sound upon the floors. We meet him at the doorway, on the stair, along the passages they come and go in palpable impressions on the air. A sense of something moving to and froze. Oh, thanks. There are no more guests at table than the hosts invited. The illuminated hall is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts as silent as the pictures on the wall