E.E. Cummings "Tulips and Chimneys"
Improv on rhyme scheme (ABCDDCBA)
When we're alone, she says, and threads the straw between her teeth,
we dance like crazy people (here the drum beat ends).
Her lips punctuate the taste of fizz; a new song starts.
I watched, amused. The straw takes up her dance
then fingers lift and twitter out romance
with her cheek's curve, an echo of the hips that dart
against the chair back--and I'm thinking of an Italian well, deep bends
that call the insane to circles and a mythic pedigree.
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