Wednesday, October 23, 2013

You Look As If You Don't Believe in the Beach

You look as if you don't believe in the beach. 
You've got an indicative tone with the way 
you consult the sky and how you try to define 
it's line where it may or may not meet the edges of the world. 
There is a constant shifting being applied to everything
 you hear as if the world is out to get you.
An overcautious prowl with a quick whip attitude
you go looking for trouble, get into trouble, stay in trouble.
There is a pocket full of questions, the right side of your jeans.
You debate the jean vs. gene theory with yourself.
You tell me all of your concerns.
There are a lot of concerns.
You doubt your existence.
And mine.
The forced attention on the beauty
within yourself is fading quickly.
Your attention is demanded elsewhere.
You demand to be elsewhere.
Where beaches don't exist.
And you can play in the concrete. 

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