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21 August 2009. Chilly mist at edge of pool, almost fall. Later--sun pushing through gray. Mo with his back turned, behind 7-eleven counter, stacking cartons of smokes. The order of commerce. Yesterday--a basket of figs--dark velvet blacks, tiny gold-red seeds within.
"I want to be a farmer," the girl, Valerie, in produce aisle, El Cerrito Natural Foods. She leads me to the tofu case, smiling--"this one is really good"-- the jalapeƱo smoked from Tofu Yu. And who could refuse?
The ways of the world, as of old. Two Tahitian maidens, side by side. Their veiled eyes averted--in modesty and dream. Gauguin's carved wooden platter of crimson-orange fruit, a pink bouquet. Single pale earing--a bit of coral.
From the sea, as are we all...
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