Even the cracks in the
high clouds crack

apart like dry mud flats;
rainless

we curl like paper
singe

a little at the edges;
windless

the beach rubs in
laminates brine

on shoulders
and backs

us against the sand
fractal and infinite

as water divots
the grains each

in the other’s reaches;
it’s time to pack up

no point swimming
beyond this point.

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