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Still Listening to Suite Judy Blues
mirrors steam
chamomile and alleycats
curl and bend
as I sip 
a butterscotch morning
o to die of sweetness
your honeyed notes 
sing without alarm
"there's a young man
that I know/
his age is 21"
and eternity's hands
sweep past my youth
to where I pluck lemons
at noon
yellow, like a surprise
startled, tart and alive