it is great union, coming down to rest

like a windblown

piece of trash

I suppose

I’ll be leaving.

This body

has the right idea.

I was saying

some words for you

but they didn’t last

and the lovely


of your face

or our love

or our life



so maybe instead

of packing self

with sand and salt

I’ll walk

as I can

and pass the time

in one ever-flowing


of no regret


like waves

and coming to rest

where we tried

to never be

the home I thought

I’d live my way

out of


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