Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

Son of a beach

In wave wet sand
He presses down and
Obscures the earth with
A footprint.
Years from now, I'll
Be the simpleton trying
To relive ancient
Spoiled memories by
Revisiting his indents but
Only to discover
That with time, they have
Faded away.
And I stand around, shamelessly
Cursing and remembering that
Forever is only a few years really;
That I should
Have seen the storm come
And wash the sand clean
Of his impressure.
I should have known
And that's why I didn't.

Feb. 1. 2010.
 


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Son of a beach

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