106 The Meadow Black Coffee, White Peaches Melanie Perish I sip coffee first: dark roast, ebony, a flavor-shift from tongue to throat like chord progressions in Ellington’s A Train. The Blue Note in the city. Next, the white peaches: firm, juicy, unpeeled. The fuzz returns me to skin, women dancing, last call—to a terrace overlooking the Hudson. Your mouth. Dawn.
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