| A woman is swimming over London,
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| a fox turns up his face to see her pass,
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| there are blackbirds in the sleeping streets,
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| a pear tree, luminous with blossom:
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| it’s the dream she always has,
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| the dream where she’s touching a cloud —
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| The night is a tide she is pulled by
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| while a taxicab slumbers underneath,
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| and a robin is a fish who sings
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| from a treetop of coral below her:
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| it’s the dream she always has, the dream where she’s dancing through air —
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| Aerials point like signposts
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| until all the houses are gone,
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| and fields give way to a beach
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| where the ocean is calling her name:
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| it’s the dream she always has,
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| the dream where she’s swimming over London-
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| where she sings to the stars like a mermaid
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| and darkness is a murmur in her hair. |