she returns
from Spain, she's still wearing
the orange
and yellow
and red
dress
that she bought
in Madrid,
and the big earrings.
her lips
seem swollen
with bold dark lipstick.
she's hanging
onto
the accent too.
though mangling the words.
you must come
over
for Sangria
and paella soon,
she tells me,
on the phone. i can hear
the clicking
of castanets and the tapping
of her high heel
shoes
in her freshly painted
stucco sunroom.
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