Taylor Graham Skunk Lady Nocturnal, crepuscular, faint odor of disrepute in broad daylight down the straight-line sidewalk from den behind the quick- stop past one-star motels fast-food dumpsters past the marble courthouse headed where? Don't ask. In thriftstore black all- weather coat, long scarf once white wrapped at the collar trailing down the back. Neighbor dogs don't faze her, kids calling names. Without a word she says if pressed Don't mess with me.

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