sleeps safely in a book whose weight is new.
chilled sunlight, mellow and young, toddles upon my white back,
reminding me that there is much more time left.
it's a little too much for me
sings a confident poolside voice, as if referencing my unspoken countdown.
in a place whose air is a smooth hand nursing fevered skin,
the acerbic grit of rock and weathered sandal beds
still stings one's ambition.
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