Shoreline
I’m at the shore of the burning lake,
Lapping up flames like a thirsty mutt.
Knees, toes and palms in black sand,
Never better.
Forever watching spiders,
Build bridges from fingertips to knuckles.
A beast of burden, hardheaded but headed home;
Wishy-washy where fairweather wings beat and feathers flock together,
Never better.
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Very nice. Sensual language