Water Town; a Poem.

Rippling water isn’t poetic

anymore,

thousands of words have been said

millions of times, and

I’ve been slacking in my efforts

to understand all of them.

So, all I do is contribute to the cliché.

I have only hundreds of thoughts

scrawled out on one notebook,

and one wavelength

to operate on,

and I am spread thinly

across the tense surface

of this watery town.

Astoria, OR.


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