January 12, 2010
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The best vacation spot is better than most,
Blue waved tide, crashing ‘round the coast.
Gold sand sings,
And birds flit high with white wings.

This is a spot where I can stay,
Be it for two weeks or just a day.
And if I ever need to come back,
The train from home runs swiftly back.

On the beach where I lay,
Sun-kissed clouds flutter all day.
And the water froths slightly,
Blue and green, I see lightly.

Through the horizon a pier rushes,
And on it rest two empty buses.
Shells left from last year’s fair,
While the homeless huddle in their metal lair.

To the same sand spit I return.
Between two dunes crowned in fern,
I lie on top, as water pools below.
Tousling my hair black as the crow,
The wind courses gently.

The sky plummets away from me.
Purple eating blue, as light doth flee.
The horizon’s line. Sun sinks below.
And I ponder the questions man will never know.

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