Bells. A time to turn
for home. But now you
pretend to listen to a
piano in the window of
the music store. Songs
shine at the corners of
your eyes. Whether to
turn another corner is
the sadness. The signs
of the Main Street Café
flash on. The piano is
burning, now. Dance it.
Please. Dance me that
music you tried to hear.
People have turned this
corner and disappeared.
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