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MAHIM
Jun 15, 2009 16:43:20 GMT -5
Post by Dave Besseling on Jun 15, 2009 16:43:20 GMT -5
You smooth your salon hair to distract, mostly, yourself from your stilettos piercing the spaces of the pebble patch of sidewalk not wide enough for you, your hair and your shiny purse.
A little further up,
He is conked out, laying half naked in the dust and exhaust, the weight of one foot keeping the tassled tarp secure over the pile of bricks, or whatever.
The ladder, to eventually take the whatever up the scaffolding in the arms of the dusty man hogs most of the sidewalk.
You sidestep through the laid rungs like a military exercise. In those heels no less.
In the morning, or whenever that slave-wage soak gets up, his hair is going to be a mess.
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