Curb sitting


Trace BBs as they kiss the luminescent peak of waves;
parabolic explorations observed by a bright eyed boy
cognizant of the limits of their destructive power.
See them arch through the midday malaise--
Tuesdays wasted in repetition,
that's the state of this young boy's heart.
Here is now and is forever,
never mind the decades that slip past
and the many meetings with one mind.
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4 thoughts on “Curb sitting

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