The hands and feet are whittled down
What they grasp is air and clouds
Where formally the electric company stood
And the rounded hill we called
Jupiter’s Temple with its gold roof-tiles
Ruined memories always under reconstruction
In an abandoned milk truck
With Cleopatra and Keats
One day you went down to the sea to swim
A single body alone in that great expanse
Where you could see your entire life
Back there glimmering
Not one grain of sand
But the whole shore line
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