wine country.
everyone blonde and wearing boots
half way up
their legs.
there's a white mercedes.
a black
jag,
a cream colored bentley.
money is blowing
in the streets like leaves.
it's a skinny world,
of tight skin
and tight jeans.
you need reservations for
coffee.
everyone seems to know
everyone.
no one being who they seem
to be.
and look up in the field,
by that
white mansion
there's a horse or two.
some cows.
it's shangri-la, this is where
we need to be.
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