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September 18, 2007

The beat thumped,

Pounded,

against my skin, much like the sun did
Earlier that day
When I lay
Face down ass up
On an Ibiza beach
Golden rays, bronzed skin
Dark companion
Cold drink
White sand
White lines
Now around midnight
In a bathroom, a cuarto de bano
(Con lineas blancos en mis manos)
letting the beat pound against my skin
which I donít feel
really
I make it back to the floor
with Raquel
pulling me along
giggling, handing me a concoction
me, giggling
bubbles in the air
our shiny sequined tops
mirroring the suds around our knees