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November 14, 2010
bare feet hanging off the bed
my coffee tins
the old ones
with the chipping paint
are full of sand
that I smuggled home
just a little got into my suitcase
I hear the water in the pipes
and I will try to pretend it is the ocean
when I close my eyes
but there's no sweet smell of palm trees in the breeze
that's ok
I didn't sleep well there
anyway





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