he doesn't make it.
he makes it
more pronounced
more defined
chiseled with
such perfection
that I
catch my breath
question my morals
watch my smile.
he didn't start it.
he started a
progression
a regression
a momentary
compression.
he stumbled into the year
of annus mirabilis
notable for disasters or fate.
just a flick of the wrist
and
he casts a line
that reels in
miracle
after
every day mediocre
miracle.
and then he throws them back
left to wander the sea
until the next sunset
chooses her
quiescent wonder.
















Devious Comments
Comments
--
if you walk away, i'll walk away.
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