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By scqueen Date: 2001 May 10 Comment on this Work [[2001.05.10.21.48.10397]] |
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Santa Ana winds slap my face with hot dust and the skirt I wore to impress him billows out. I carelessly smooth it down and it defies me, like the sun that is baking my legs. The soles of my feet are the color of fresh laid sod and my hair reflects prisms of an abalone shell. Soon the dusk will bring me peace in the crisp sea air, and I will tell the man that brought me West that I love him. |