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ArtistChurrigueresque Psychosomatic Magicalism.
the record broke
but kept turning.
little black pieces
going around
like men looking
for their cars
after midnight.
somewhere in the middle
a trumpet player
was trying to finish
one good note.
i knew the feeling.
the rent was due.
the coffee tasted
like the pot.
outside,
a truck backed up
and beeped through his solo.
i moved the needle.
he started again.
i sat down
with both hands
around the cup.
