Tuesday, February 12, 2019

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The city hung out its gray streets, sugar
swirled over the railroad tracks, one night.

In the light globe of a distant high-rise: man
waiting in the rain by a sugar-beet refinery.

I threw down my bicycle, knees trembling,
and recognized a voice from another past.

He shook my hand, assured me it was he:
first pianist in my life, sad September song.
...
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Albertina Soepboer
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