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I love that they scuff about in sarongs
That their hair is chestnuts and curls
Beads or gold string their necks
And they smell, strong
Of coffee and heat
Their women
Of lemons
Softly baked
Melanzane skin
I love their juggernaut tongue
Unbroken over cards and bambinos
All cinnamon eyed
And glitter
They strut taught
Or well met
Farfalle paid gut
I love that only in Italy

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Summer Evenings

Summer evenings stroll on
With their melodies strong
And their playful wishes well-fed
Sunsets arrive in full glory
With a daring, keen story
Reluctant to cast us to bed
The skies blush and they croon
Kiss hello to the moon
and blossom in purple and red

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