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The lovely woman with the cold vermouth
Is waiting for me halfway up the stairs.
I’m still distracted by her laughing mouth
This end-of-summer evening, 30 years
Since first she waited where she said she would
And walked beside me to the river’s edge.
We spoke some words which linked our lives for good:
An awkward but sufficient lovers’ pledge.

Tonight, the sullen skies unload their rain.
I turn the lights on and pick out some jazz:
Ben Webster, Stormy Weather. Time to dine,
Or not. The ice cubes in her tumbler shine,
She makes her eyes round in that way she has,
I follow her. Ben plays that strain again.

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