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We are watching them make their way towards the up-turned life guard stand
waiting from the bench with a Rent-a-John behind us
a door swings and we know just were we are - laughter from the beach echoes familiar tones emptying itself in our laps
Comfortable chatter rests on the surreality of a sliced orange moon resting against our horizon
rising in the summer's breeze, bridging us to the open skies from our nave
No longer strangers, patience for their dance on the open beach
the hint of flesh behind the white linen of his shirt arrests now from the corner of my eye
widening at each button
A stolen kiss, a rare moment and he motions me to clear my vision, time-keeper, the hour-glass of the ascending moon
becomes this mirror
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