BerkeleyPastthegiantbambooandthepurplebougainvilleainthebackyardwastewherewehitchourbikeslikezombieponies,thereisthistangleofathingthatwouldbepoisonivybackEast,andhereitsplum.Orconvincinglyplum,fallingdownfromnextdoorinagreatspillofsmallyellowfruit.Andyes,Ihavetastedit.Thisandtheicecreamtruckthattrollsthestreetinthegloaming,heldtogetherstilljustbythepinkandtheplayingoftheYellowRoselikeamusicbox.Intheabsenceofthesethings,thoughIdontbelieve
inGod,shejustseemsverysmall,wintersmall.Toodamnskinny.
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