Thanks Stephen. That weather really got me. Perhaps your fog and my chilly air-
con.
Best,
Jill
> "The coldest winter I ever spent was an August in San Francisco." Mark Twain
>
> At five o'clock the "backs" back off
> Riddle the sky, throw blank stares at each other
> We don't know why we are here
> Your ennui not more valuable than mine
> I dream my heart through roses
> It's August in San Francisco
> The fog grips the psyche like an iron vice
> There's no use to cry "Uncle"
> No one except the advent of blue and sunshine
> Will lift one off the mat:
> It's winter. There's no way out
> You better die and die a little more
> If one breathes there will be relief in September
> Or, head to the high country
> Give in to neither bad politics
> Or bad - we got tons of it - weather.
>
> Stephen V
> Blog: http://stephenvincent.durationpress.com
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