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When you were a silhouette on that piano bench, playing only ivory keys (lips pursed so subtly) I found you.

The bar stools were upside down; the truth driveled from my mouth. With your gaze lingering, a deadpan delivery: “Oh that’s new.”

The rain begged us not to think too much for the ending. Let’s agree on something trite. We peaked at different times—out of phase.

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Suyoung Jang Brooklyn, New York

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