In a heat wave enter the rose gardens of Portland.
The victory of rose names over the heat, the victory of bees over all.
Sun, I do not speak your language
and yet you shout louder.
White mule climbs steps to a Greek villa
to be sent down again. Such is the heart.
The mule and the switch have their conversation.
It is okay to be a tourist in your life, but not an impostor.
Convoy of mule days, convoy of mule heart—
low card brings it in, high takes half the pot.
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