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Afore the browning ivory,
I'll kiss
upon cast-iron shores
and swallow this diazepam
on every
exhale, catching yours
in ripples losing all translation
to the clatter of my brain
like ripples, always dissipating,
parting ways, then...down the drain
as prism-pale dishwater
turning seafoam at a dream's behest
and loose lips, in their
sinking
of these far off ships, can sing the rest