where the college kids hang out to flirt,
glancing often over the top of their laptops
to check out the scenery.
Sunday night, tonight, it's the usual with a twist,
a saxophone serenade downstairs,
a cup of Verveine tea that Grandma
took every afternoon before her nap
before her glass of wine before dinner,
she wrote in her sleep, never bothering
to finish the lines, only to wake refreshed
from the life she could only dream of.
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