the beach

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I’d never ridden a motorcycle before. But when she asked if she could take me for a ride I couldn’t find a single reason to say no.  
it was winter when we met   and summer when you left   maybe there’s some irony in that,   but i haven’t found it yet.   as soon as our eyes met,  
Wooden beams and wooden planks And salty sea scented air Drew our souls near the edge And then just held them there   The wind whipped our hair The cold bit our noses
  Hot ceramic sunlight peeled from the skin
      The cool brisk air hitting my face,    as I walk on the sand at a steady pace.   I hear the ocean crashing a tune,   as the firefly’s dance across the moon.  
the overcast sea smells of cocoa butter and salt warm air floating heavy and a dead bird on the ground.   the streets are clear and gray summertime is over and the beach house windows are black
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