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Nocturne with Choreography for Departure Streetcar wires sing steel nocturnespromising the mystery of travel. Sitting cornered in chiaroscuro, he anticipates her choreography. She’ll enter like this: penetrating his half-dark, a froth of black hair beating the white shore of her face. The hard cinnamon-sound of her name will crack in his teeth as she slides like ice across the floor, dangerous in high heels. He waits in silence, memory lit indigo, tangerine:
She will enter, smile cracking carmine
Contributor’s
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