Sat here, even the weather seems optional
the bay sky razor-cut by forks of white on black billows
the shore razed by hot light
With breeze lilting the water through your blood
and your heart warm to match the sun-soaked rock
you have a choice
There are others lying here, still drunk
thinking about the first drops as they shatter on stone
the depth of the bay
cold with the calm
and at home is your bride to be
pouring
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