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Shit! At the blue cafe
Ah, Love! Could thou and I conspire

November 11, 2003
The Iranian

Full of salted sardines she fell back on the blue fitted sheet after unreasonable infatuation revealed by clear stars on Gabriel Miro Avinguda with crisps goodby slut untouched.

Black tee with breast in white lace bras, she shut the street door with a groan.  A fast flash from Khayyam.  So what!

Gave Sven chocolates to Ivan at the Doggy Shop with eyes open in cold blood fickle penny wise and pound foolish closed for a week to enter winter junk.

Bought a staw hat for Margaret for taking her twice told the tale on Sunday a wet blanket with pearl earrings caught napping in her X Mazda convertable her straw hat blew out the window. 

Blood on footprints in the sand.  She glad to hear way to misery, violence deeper barbarism heavy shit undiluted squalor and another thing Picasso painted her crying on a blue chair.

Ah, Love!  Could thou and I conspire.  She took it seriously imagine muslin whitewashed desire.

Saturday stretched out pale-orange and rose shadows under the orange trees limiting the day's palette to desayuno at the Arte Cafe fluttering rags put out to dry at the window.

Not even a cat on the roof where like Budhist flags green with white crescent moon and white with red cross bet on a parade on 17 October.

Smouldering Spanish gazing at their unconscious reflections massed arm in arm obsessed by fires dirty sex the secret of rejuvenation had only one firplace to flash it.

A tiny fountain or two with blue tiles eau de nil turning turquoise bikini ochre tong stuck with a halter top rear filled with foliage.  Green leaf on soft sand unfaithful discreetly.

But after all Baba recited Firdowsi when there was nothing else to do in the rocky desert of Bakhtiari on the roof clutching a verse or two into eternity.

Seagulls waited in the shallow sea for fish.  Transfusion of pain felt as usual at night.  Khayyam took the shot which at night caught her neatly in his noose of light.

A secret watch fob in his pants, soft navy felt hat, narrow brim, dented crown, on the back a snap, full of crap naked erection on her lap.

No se she said sliding down the hill she carved the name PERSIA on the orange tree - &%$!? - unborn tomorrow dead yesterday in old Calpe.  Fudge he f----d her.

Shit!  she said kiss me we're just getting started spell Saturday pulling on her fishnet stockings another beer she kissed his dick he said hasta la vista at the Blue Cafe, she said shit!

Funny how time slips away.

SHIT! - &%$"!?ø - ESPANA

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By Kristopher Kolumbus



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