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Friday, March 2, 2012

cigarette fish.


i like standing around
           together outside
    breath
              like we’re smoking cigarettes
  i used to hate cigarettes
now they are fog
            and
                 mist
  maybe that ember on the end
spitting ash
        glowing nicotine
brings warmth.
    and
it is Now, februarygone,
that i begin to think of the ocean again.
        sand
salt
   skin burned all copper like pennies.
 and watermelon and stained freckle cheeks.
           we are fish.then.
    we are colors
                   even the water is warm.
     then. too warm.
 like the sparks
             fell
out of the cigarettes
             and hit the blue.

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