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	¬ m e l o d i e s       melodies #4 In the city there are rooms where people drink, chat and smoke, each table with an ashtray and a flower. Conversation becomes melody between these walls while, outside, traffic would eat at the world. A shelter, for some reason I left early. Let the snow cover the city, and I wonder at the curl of cigarette smoke that purles its way to infinity with such blithe indifference.