176

This was the first full day in a lifetime.

Dreams and fragments, rivers and streams broken
by time and lethargic empathy rhyme
in consonance with my cordial token:
That is, the heart beats like wine, like money,
like arcade arches cracked by wind and loss;
Bumper car bummers are done purposely
to thrill and to comfort, to turn and toss
the rosemary sprigs into the hot tea:
That way we remember where we started:
at sea. The embers of the universe
were already at bay when time parted
itself into forking paths and thick verse:
The earth's crust wears its crosscutting fork marks
as a sign of the love that always harks.
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