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a rattling tremor
coursed beneath the landscape
quaking all above
Bryce Aug 2018
She and me
Kick our legs over the cliff
Watching the water pound in steep
Crests of mist,
Awash the quaking stone.

Drinking through the daze
Withering and coastal
Happy with every day
that drips
And growing older
Seeking the simple deaths of life.

And when we sang our songs to the flocks of gulls
And they called saline
Eating fishbones
Circling like biplanes
Above the coast
We wondered what wandrous
Raptors out ran the oilpan
And instead became this.

We eat our picnic meats
And settle down for a long daydream
Staring at the overcast blanket
Seeing streaks of Grey dispersed between
Warm and a little bit loved by the sea.

Me and she
There was no stopping
Her questions, flying hot lead at my
Dripping gall juice inside the spleen
Infected and hungry
Waiting to engorge our final meal
A bunch of microscopes in the petri
Dished out and left to drift
Amongst the lapping waves.

When those gulls flapped their lazy way
Heading down the coast
Searching for simple meals
And calling family in the sky
They wondered to god
about solitary
You and I
And just what was our deal?

— The End —