wash,
wash,
watch
over me.
sea,
sea,
see me
through.
cannot fault
the air, the salt,
the languid ease
of untamed breeze.
lovers' heads
tilted, some
satiated,
some jilted,
in bayside weather,
that promises:
Together.
the blind
aren't blind here,
there's so much
to find here.
you never know
what you'll uncover;
maybe you folks
will even discover
a washed-up plastic
*insert religion* god
between the spokes
of a veritably नास्तिक,
neutral tetrapod.
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