And So the Flies
Still as Life Becomes Without You
By Dan TompsettPublished 3 years ago • 1 min read
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~And So the Flies~
Flies buzz kelp tossed aground
as brown eels monkey pool to pool
beneath the foam where broken creatures
churn and grind into mundane sand.
The cafe's dated tablecloth,
checkered white and blue, soiled
from years of deep-fried fare,
the shells you took to your dryland guy
with his basket of loot, sunny car,
and common sense.
I size-up the prevalent wind,
and from where I sit, your glass,
my glass, the spent bottle
and sourdough crumbs, still
as life becomes without you
suggest it's time to go.
The waitress brings the check. I pay,
deal out the tip,
as the surf below grumbles
and thunder-gray gulls
lift away like smoke.
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