Monday, April 12, 2010

Night tide

I sleep, then all of a sudden wake up and it's near impossible to go back.

Yesterday I began reading a book in the sun, High Tide by Inga Abele.
There were seagulls and grovel and squinting and children,
and from my coarse grey bag a bottle of bubbles peaked.

First I cried, then I was confused, and then Karol came along.

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