My bed’s been a canyon and I a God among its cliffs. Where avalanche and switchbacks stain everything a dull shade of Indian red, I descend to the determined creek below, evidence of a movement that permanently shaped the globe.
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I saw two young white girls clad in bright blue and green uniforms lollygagging in front of an all black
They were twins. Same height, same hair, same eyes, same bright white silk tights and they were right out in front where the black kids usually yell and fight.
I sat and thought, stewed and laughed, and still don’t have a clue as to why they felt the need to writhe and giggle in the middle of that
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Before drugs and epidemics, war and tonsillitis, icebergs left scars deeper than the sea is blue.