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the limping man across the beach

breaks spinning waves and midas touch

his string of fish and smell of speech

write volumes on his gentle crutch.

As the mornings end and coffee’s served

and the crowds of gentiles say so much

he let’s the sea remain conserved.

She calls him on the other side

says the bottom’s much deserved

his tears and flounder flow out wide

beyond the rocks he used to teach

listening to his youthful bride.

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