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88 • THiS iS bLuES (ALTErNATE TAKE) At 2 a.m., I wanted to know where we stood on the fight that made me leave that afternoon— your answer, my suitcase packed, stationed at the door. Subtlety has no place with you, wore off when the studio uptown became my bedroom. The suitcase isn’t phased, still as shabby as the day I left St. Louis, stuffed it with slacks, my good sweaters. Your heart knows its 2 a.m., knows you could’ve changed your mind, but when the bag was packed at 6, you say, nothing ever came out, & you called a dozen hotels for a vacant room. ...

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