Poor girl, you're stuck with him. That spring
I dreamt of midwest tornadoes; I'm sure
I was one of them. Do you think my twisting
hips were forgiving? And a ring spinning
like a top, sparkling on the surface of
sea... a gift or warning. I've heard
no one in Kansas has seen the ocean
or would choose to die in it.
I would. In the rain and wind, wheat
stalks, in the motion of bodies of water
bend and turn in the distance like a
California storm.
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