backlash
against the beach, i am
just a grain of rice
in
an ocean of white sand
pieces (soaring
like open particles in some
deviant spider's web)
and with you
i cover up every
new
soft spot
with a harder case, a shell,
a dynamite sound
that separates me
from
the pack, and (with you)
i
swim against the grain, against
the
realization
that i am
just a piece of sand...
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