Love on the beach
I sense the tingle of your fingers
On the shadowy curve of my back
Through their after-fragrance.
You ran your fingers on my belly
I could almost hear their music.
I could hear your carbon smell
As the sun burnt your crackling back
And we lay, on the beach, oblivious
Of the crustaceans crawling on us.
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Poetry based upon actual experiences, not one thought up in the intellectual aridness of a pseudo-thinker. Words as they mean in the specific context of recollected thought or image , not meaning several things at a time but that which re-creates an aura or a haze of an earlier experience.
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