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Feb 2018
Lounging on the poolside
like some die cast model for hopeful artificiality,
sweat-slick and ignorant
a shy lobster cooking in her dreams
it was... fate.

Fateful really.

Scuttling up the mirror
the underside tender.
And peering wistfully
at a storming sea
from one precarious perch.

I thought in shades of red.
and I was blue.

Fantasies leave sunburn
in the worst places.
A bit of wry self-deprecating humor for you. lol
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