| I saw her in a dream
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| Exiting the bookstore lobby
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| Sitting on a bench on Baltimore and reading Murakami
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| Slipping salt beneath the sun
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| Her hands now tying up her hair
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| One pair of deeply tinted shades reflects my unbelieving stare
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| And at once
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| I am taken
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| She asked me what I wanted
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| As if one ever really knew
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| And I said, «Dull domestication, free from pressure to pursue
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| Another love, another touch, another tired conversation»
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| And then she shut her novel sharply
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| And proposed a new location
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| And at once
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| I applied
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| Details for a new protest
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| Adorn white printer paper pliers
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| She says, «I feel so old admitting counter-culture makes me tired»
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| She leads me into the café
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| Her intention is exact
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| It is 104 degrees
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| She takes her coffee hot and black
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| And at once
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| I am entranced
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| She suggests we settle down
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| Meaning, settle down for good
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| She knows the perfect place on Martha Street
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| In her old neighborhood
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| And then a taxi sounds a horn
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| And it is full of all our things
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| And it is parked outside the café
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| And the driver sounds incredibly
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| Impatient
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| When we merge onto the freeway
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| She rolls her window down completely
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| The driver dials into a station
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| And then she smiles at me discreetly
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| She says, «I love this song»
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| Then turns away and tracks the clouds
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| The driver curses with conviction
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| While «Heavy Metal Drummer» plays us out |