Friday, January 29, 2010

1 of N of X

as the chatter of the crowd fades in and out of earshot
dampened by the sound of crashing waves to your left,
froth bubbling, milk-white as it settles;

an effervescent cola-hiss dissipating over sand,
now runway-smooth;

a giant mirror's laid-down out from thin air
reflecting the sky in exquisite detail,

seconds hence it vanishes;
as though the mirror just passed,
leaving behind an endless expanse of silk smooth sand,

steam-ironed flat, searing hot at the surface
even though it's not;

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