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Metro Mona-Lisa

Behind me I have just left
a girl who played the violin.
She was sat on a stool
at the foot of an escalator.
About twenty and rather pale,
there was something masculine
in the movement of her arms
and thin white fingers;
their strength contrasting
with the soft oval of her face.
I stopped to look at her
and she moved her mouth.
I have no idea what air she played,
but I think she played it well
with that almost-smile.


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