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  • Was a Dream.
    It didn’t really happen.
    It was a magical place in my mind.
    It was blaze orange and purple burning sunsets
    On open empty plains.
    It was a white sand quarry
    clear water oasis
    In the middle of those plains.
    It was beauty
    Temptresses & Seducers
    In every form
    Asleep & Awake.
    It was Spanish Moss draped
    Old gray trees
    Spanish colonial haunted
    Seminoles & Conquistadors
    Among Retired Pirates.
    It was relentless steamy rain
    That didn’t seem to matter
    Predictable afternoon storms
    Relentless waves
    Inevitable rides.
    It was alligator pursuing lakeside
    Late night pot smoking
    Laying out on a dock a’spinning
    Feeling a beautiful flow
    That has somehow disappeared into cold
    Upstate New York fall air,
    Full of trees & leaves
    And everything else on fire with its’ own ruin.
    Florida was a dream.
    It didn’t really happen
    To me.
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