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The Heights 

What a day it was.
Arms falling down at her sides.
Hour after hour spent in a box lined with velvet,
where what came before dinner
were desserts of Belgian chocolate
and the edits she sent to her secretary at lunch.

Held from the ledge by safety windows and a wooden
desk, she finished her tall frapuccino
and looked out onto the Hudson
wondering if happiness existed below the twenty-fifth floor.

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