You're tandem like a rock carved--eroded from waves that rip the walls that hold a home you've lived in all your life. Six hundred years ago you walked on bear feet across a salted dirt tanned brown to match your skin. You pray like the mammal and you stalk like a reptile. You're gorgeous fingers skilled in harboring water to cleanse your dusted face. We lay together in the sky where we bark and scowl down at the sea and across to the moon. I ascend into the horizon and my belly stings and sizzles at the tip of the ocean, and my lips kiss the amphibians beneath just before I tell you I'll miss you, and you wave goodbye.
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