The Muse of Monterey
I make no excuses for my Muse who resides in Zodiac’s centrifugal eye. She spies on me through fog-shrouded shadows at night. My Muse on leave from her usual station beside Santa Rosalia, guardian of Monterey. She waits tables at the waterfront nightclub at a spot where I’m often asked to snap photos on iPhones for tourists from faraway lands. My Muse has a special talent for delighting customers who circumnavigate the place, and is envied by many who amplify her cheer as they quaff frosty glasses of imported...
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