cool milk goes down smoothly
I like steady rhythms also jolts
returning to the regular reality
goes on wondering who I am
a stanza is a room in Italy we
would like to be there but are
not Italian northerners know
like Goethe Shelley to love it
this is the sizzle I waited for
thinking I had to what it was
stayed with me still a muddle
a musing a story all one's own
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