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and the music stopped
upon my arrival, I dreamed and heard the song
it played
for me again wisely like the split spilling rain
fragrant of my sweat exuding the garlic, like
the Mediterranean, like the softened riverbed
where I 
sit
having this melody play for me again
my smell of garlic is the
scent
of ancient cities, exotic
as tales of the Nile, the want of inundation
to survive, to prosper, to offer a purpose
for prayer
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