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August 5, 2012

in this garden

where it is always 27 degrees,

the sun fries eggs and shrimp

while we speak of hier soir,

and faraway places,

and impending futures

that will be presents all too soon

and where shall we three meet again?

(in thunder, lightning or in rain)

or under another sun

where the sun has baked a third language

and i once wore a pink suit

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