hands flailing skyward, to hang from the moon
would be ideal
the water coats my face, below a mysterious
darkness beckons
the surface breaks with a struggle, september
disguised as cement
a craving for a towel and clean clothes, the shoreline
miles in any direction
awaiting me: sunshine, the sensation of
sand in between each toe
a place to rest my weary arms, a hair tie to keep
everything else within sight
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