you can see the beautiful coastline of death
slowly being eaten away by the bright white waves
and the unrelenting wind of some new kind of love
which just won’t give up
beating into sea-spray against the rocks
so children laugh and the whorled
faces of the native old women
are cinched in even tighter
by their smiles because they know
love makes you stand still
so it can rain down on you
its judgment its concern:
no no love more
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