From: davidsands@yahoo.com   
      
   she hung from a seventh floor window   
   in the eighteenth arrondisement   
   her wrists slit and as the blood fell   
   it coagulated under the gaze of monte martre   
   into petals of roses which in the morning   
   blew down the hill to a cafe   
   where a sobering artist recognized   
   his lover's essence and ordered a cognac   
   an espresso and a pistol   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)