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Puertos
[Matagorda - Yucatán]
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thoughts: figure skaters
along stilt parts of time
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"too far from the sea," she said.
her words were swept away by the dry wind
like seagulls in a squall
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or vigil measures to rewrite
swift centennial plans |
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still, that dusty heat-cracked road was
more than a hard place, she knew.
like time, it could carry her either way
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barring that one
patron saint
of second guesses |
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washing out what was inlaid,
anguished,
luminous as fate |
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