Sometimes she wants
to tuck herself inside a song
and never leave.

She doesn’t drink
or do drugs anymore.
She can still dance.

Prince is dead.
Go out, buy some colorful clothes.
She gets it.

She looks for a third
wind at the bottom
of an espresso demitasse.

That song
she’s living inside
will carry her

so much further.
That song,
that song.

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