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Book Description by Greenfield McKenna The Italian woman had the Regal Laugh, such regal laughter as I've not heard since I last saw her. Barcelona. Indeed, Barcelona. She & I laughed & talked & loved & sinned & then she was gone, I was gone, only that Spanish city remained, with its sun-dappled stucco of love. I recall her yellow dress, her golden laughter of, her lips of crimson, the joy of her flesh. Is it not hard? How is it not hard? Where does the love go? I'll show you, my dear. In those days of youth & vim, the horrors of old age, the knowledge of life, it had not yet crept into our loves. We merely had each other, each of us, & our spouses whom we left to be together. We loved so long, so hard, now she's gone, so long. The soul of my telephone whispers sweet nothings into the silver furrows of my heart. I weep at night. I love her still. |
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