25 July 2012

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I can smell their coffee. One girl brings the thermos to the other's lips for her to sip. A gesture so tender. Pronouns confuse. Everything is she and her and her and she. They speak, slowly, in Spanish. It drifts my way and I dream in it that night.

A woman, young, conservatively dressed, blonde, cradles her dog in her arms, belly up, in a stance of absolute trust.

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