Because each morning
steep Denny street
makes my lungs swell,
my heart pound
to the rhythm of rush hour
and dreams dissolving
because some afternoons
the black crooked-tail kitty
circles, purring as I crouch
to scratch behind her ears and chin
because these August days
the no-man's plum tree
hangs sweet black jewels
just out of reach -- gifts
for anyone who cares to climb.
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