My love, if we could bottle
Rhapsody in Blue
We would. We could take
The notes from the trumpet,
And spread them on buildings,
Like butter on toast. The music
Clings to my bones,
It's what drew you to me.
I breathe in the noise of our city,
The click-clack of the subway,
Honking horns, swearing shopkeepers--
And I breathe out
Music for you,
A Canon in the key of D,
A New York Rhapsody, a moonlit sonata.
We do not make music, my love,
Because we have always known
How to breathe it.

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