Don Gagnon

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I can almost feel the sea pulling at that racket in the trees but there’s my spotlamp so all I gotta do is follow the lovely sand road which dips and dips in rising carnage and suddenly a flattening, a sight of bridge logs, there’s the bridge rail, there’s the creek just four feet below, cross the bridge you woken bum and see what’s on the other shore.
Big Sur
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