stale air pushed
through ceiling fans,
breaths life into me.
music like molasses above our heads,
drips onto private courtyards
to sweeten ice tea
innocent streets
awakened in mid afternoon
by shadows of giants
and dancing ice cubes
soul foods waft through filigrees
and find home on blank paper
until plates are empty and canvases full
with our thoughts and dreams
our time to savor
we let the air stand still
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