I remember underwater basket weaving being discussed as a joke
about
the uselessness
of college
its grey walls and quiet shores
a barrier to real life
YET
years later I want to learn
the way a dog wants to run, leap and bound
and smell the earth.
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Soaking up the rain and whipping spit of the waves, as he stood next to the ocean of my memory, a fire hydrant in a red windbreaker, glaring...
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"Well...that was dramatic." I didn't know what he meant until I saw the ink spilled everywhere and the moths in her hair like ...