Sunday, November 27, 2011

Ran out

The first scent dust rising/ And I hear small sprays on metal sheet roof// How many more? Avocado seasons large glittering green dripping emerald trees// Pineapple alone with bananas in cake/ pineaple wine so bitter sweet water to poison// How many hot, dry sunshines sweating with jerry cans at the borehole// Not many, not many, few.

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