They're out
sailing tonight.
Separated,
they jerk their heads
underneath the sail
to communicate.
Fidgets,
they've got the fidgets.
Constantly
switching sides.
Tying and loosening.
Running it all through
their hands.
They balance,
they plan.
Everything's
moving.
Planes flying low,
like they're really full.
Big bellies,
bulbous.
White butterflies
on soil-
the sails collect together,
flutter over ripples
that look like a troop of pebbles
forever on the move beneath them.
I've got my sea legs on.
Stained jeans
from Andy's coffee
a long time ago.
The sky
looks like victory.
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