This morning on the coast, I shared outdoor space with wings that I trapped under steel-toe. I tried hard to visualize another life on a beach on an island where the camera points at their striped-cotton back.
It doesn’t have to be Jawaharlal Nehru; so, no, it won’t be, to save costs.
We’ll float it halfway across the world, then back West in a gainsboro container to Raritan Landing, watching the steel box empty out on
choppy water reflecting blue & turning gray
rain sliding across Rockport-Fulton sidewalk.
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