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(Come to me, come to me tonight, Oh God, I need you anyway)
Steeler sat on the cool sand, his toes barely touching the salty water. The radio blared, sometimes rap and sometimes heavy metal. Steeler's moonlit features seemed lost in thought, and indeed he was. He fingered the shark tooth on a cord around his neck and closed his eyes. He could almost hear her light, graceful footsteps, hear her hips swishing as she walked, hear her blow her hair out of her eyes with a puff of her breath, smell the sweet shampoo wafting across
"Steeler? What are you doing here?"
(Baby, I just wanna be, be around you all the time, Oh God, I need you, oh )
Leandra? Steeler's eyebrows shot up to his hair line, but otherwise, he showed no physical sign of surprise. He opened one eye and squinted at her slim figure.
"I'm a shark. Being by or in the sea is what I do all the time," he said drily.
"Tell me about it," said Leandra darkly. Then, softer, "I never get to see you anymore."
Danielle Part 1
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." The tall, dark haired girl mumbled as she walked through campus. "It's just one grade. I mean, it can't hurt my average that bad. Can it?" The February sky seemed to mirror her thoughts, dark, heavy, and threatening to break loose at any moment. Around her, the regular school lives of hundreds of students continued, as did the girls stormy mutterings. "Hah! Who am I kidding? London! Right, Mom. 'You'll have a fabulous, glorious time, dear.'" She mimicked her mother's extravagant tone and British accent.
Storming on to the rhythm of her thoughts and blinded by her mood, she walked straight into some guy standing around with his friends. "Hey! Watch it!" he yelled, turning around. "Oh, sorry," he said, recognizing her. "Are you alright?" The girl nodded wordlessly. "I'm Keith. And you're " The girl snapped to attention. "I'm, uh, Danielle," she said. He laughed, "Well, hello then, 'uh, Danielle'." Danielle smiled warmly.
A blond girl in a pink beret said, "Yo
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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