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If I perfectly wash the stairs   If I perfectly wash the…

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If I perfectly wash the stairs

 

If I perfectly wash the stairs, if

lemon oil soap impregnates,

if I sit looking through this window long enough,

the green rain spilling, distorting, if

someone comes to whom I can say eels lash, stars explode

and there would be of course love, if that person came

to the wet door, if

no one came at all but still something happened to the stove

that does not usually happen, say the gas flame consumed

the old body and made me immortal, if the boom of a crane

came out of the sky and lifted me up higher

than those white gulls, if

music came into me and

stayed, became part of my chemistry if

when I was young I had listened to the darkness under the bridge if

I had sailed, if I had been able to stow away, if I had been a boy, if

I was not hijacked by bread, if

my fingers grew impossibly long and I could play the real Chopin

I mean if my fingers went so far back through time they actually

belonged to Chopin, if

wrought iron railings, if

moonlight could not be ignored, if I stood in the greenhouse and became

gods wrapped in vine leaves for the rice to crave,

three bus drivers waiting for me at the junction


 

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