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Lilting
She watches its threatening swivel
Lights glinting through the crystal
Throwing reflections on the ground.
Drops of wine dribble down the sides
Like so many blood-red jewels
Cascading from a tipped hand.
She watches as the glass
Swivels and dips
In a silent dance with its droplets
On the wrought iron banister.
But she never moves a finger.
She remains still even as it
Finally tumbles
And drops and drips
Down
To the parked cars below
That wait with open and patient arms.
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