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Gin and Music In the living days, in late afternoon, I made My famous martinis, so dry A spike of olives would squeak against the gin. And I would play, at levels even the angels in heaven heard, Music that suited my mood, Études or raucous guitar or jazz from the lowlife zone. But, if you were away on some errand, shopping for Supper or gadgets in the bargain bin, I’d keep the house silent, in case you called for me. These days, when no phone will carry back your voice, I pause before putting on Chopin or Hendrix or some smoky diva from the dives. I take my martinis up, helix of lemon peel in the glass. And I take your death Hard: no slow waiting now will bring you home. • • • 80 ...

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