To view the air instead of merely hear
it. See it wrap its arms around my waist
and brush its slender fingers on my face
and hair. If I could hear the colors, how
would red or blue appear? Would one be round,
the other having sharpened edges? (I
think blue would be the less abrasive.) Just
to taste the sound of trumpet, strong and with
a little tang of vinegar. To feel
the smell of mud, that musky memory
producing scent! And fragrances of thought;
would hatred smell as ugly as it feels,
and love as clear and crystal clean as I
suppose? What could I write with thoughts like those?

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