This is a mythic place: the birds have flown here every winter since I was born and before even. The devil came down to Georgia smelling of kaolin, old tea, and grandma's sweet snuff and gin, same coast, same day, it was 77 degrees farenheit in the sun the crickets and birds singing in the January heat.
----- Original Message ----- From: "Eryk Salvaggio" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> To: <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> Sent: Saturday, January 17, 2004 4:47 AM Subject: [X] Record Breaking Cold Spell > > The cold air can turn > hot coffee tossed from a mug > into ice, instantly. But my hands > aren't in anyone elses pockets > so who could care, really? > > It should have been > a kind of magic spell, cold spell, > the ice, I mean, it was boiling > hot coffee, thrown to the air > turned to ice. You'd almost > imagine it suspended > in mid air, as if motion > could freeze in this weather- > but we're safe, for now. > > We're moving on > as viciously as ever- > there is no harsh weather > anymore, now that I know > what time and isolation > can accomplish. > > -e. > > > _______________________________________________ > Five7Five mailing list > [EMAIL PROTECTED] > http://www.pairlist.net/mailman/listinfo/five7five _______________________________________________ Five7Five mailing list [EMAIL PROTECTED] http://www.pairlist.net/mailman/listinfo/five7five
