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Poem	Swimming the English Channel, struggling to make it to Calais, I swam into Laura halfway across. My body oiled for warmth, black rubber cap on my head, eyes hidden behind goggles, I was exhausted, ready to drown, when I saw her coming toward me, bobbing up and down between waves, effortlessly doing a breaststroke, heading for Dover. Treading water I asked in French if she spoke English, and she said, "Yes, I'm an American." I said, "Hey, me too," then asked her out for coffee.
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