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Body text. There's a sensuality about summer that's so heavy, so carnal, as to feel desperate in its urgency.  Peaches, plums, tomatoes - their skin pulled taut, in happy danger of sudden rupture.  Skin stays dew-dappled from morning though night.  Leaves are a lascivious green.  Sight feels slightly fogged - by heat, by too many porch drinks, by longing - so that taste, touch, sound, feel are turned up high.  Thirsts of all kind feel quenchless. 

 

 

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