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Comments about Fabio Mórabito
I spy on the building
closest to hand
a movement that begins
out on its balconies
as the day's routine,
the early tasks of morning
with their stock and styleless gestures,
I fall in love at this one hour
when people most repeat themselves,
least connected to their inner lives
and packed with habits laid down long ago.
There's a woman I observe who
constantly appears in bathrobe,
on floor eight, with coffee cup,
matronly blonde, in love with life
casting glances at her wider world while taking
two quick sips or ...