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The solo

By Thomas D'Evelyn / March 30, 1987

Hung in the still recess of the shop, just visible from the street, the red guitar jangles in memory. Yes, once that was possible as only youthful dreams are, but I turn the corner, proud and a little dazed to have come so close to and yet so far from that time. Joining the crowd, I remember it and hum.

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