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My Musician Her jazz mystifies me: My ears labor in understanding as she noodles close, eminent sweetness sweating my forehead. I take a trip, dip, stroking in her ocean -- translucent notes of blue surround her spontaneous sound, wrap me in her diversion. How could I not dip? That blue of hers -- so red hot I almost start to cook, too. And here I perch: no knowledge, no how. From jazz to jazz it all astounds the same -- so understanding plays a tired tune. Who caaaaaaaaares! with her perfect pipes, my diggin's done. Her jump and jive somehow smiles different than any blues I've heard before; And her light too blinding to ignore, I used to promise to repent, But she makes me know I'm still alive.
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