reedless piano wire loosened by disuse,
echoing flatly against driftwood stained with rust.
you see the marks that were left,
scored lightly, yet permanently, across my hands,
before i even fathomed their use.
my notes scour the dry air tonelessly,
a blanket of heavy thought and light smiles,
and time.
me, my me,
twining through an endless springtime reverie,
a soft braiding of soundless beauty and dusty readymades,
your music and my words,
my words.
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