ALL SORTS OF THINGS
HITTING THE SHORELINE
I am capable of wonders. And failures too.
I do need someone to tell me the difference
though; driving at linear speeds along
coastal byways, the salt spray of a new
nothingness covers the windshield while
the gulls and terns, turning, screech back
at me, passing. I play cards with a deft
hand of dead men, usually losing but
managing survival while they allow me
to get up and leave. 'Say nothing about
this, to anyone.' That's usually a last
comment to me. Sometimes I hear it
clearly, other times not. The water has
its wakes, and I have my troubles;
and thus, we are alike.
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