we sound like bells in the rain

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ON HIATUS

Lightning — Now there's a sexy machete: a pounce of sky electric — electricitied — inflamed. What's the sugar, Hurricane? The rain's all tinned romantic in the water pots. The waterspouts are full-on Rashmahanic. What's the hurry, Sugarcane? A pounce of sky enlightninged, Edgy-sexed . . .This is the sugar. This is the hurry.

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