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  • As you walk the beach, it all comes flooding back.

    When you were thirteen your friend's father drowned.


  • He and two friends and their dogs.
    Seasoned skilled sailors and their sturdy sailboat went down off the coast of Maine.




    Just like that.
  • And then a second sinking. Of another sort.




    You let your friend down. You let her be capsized by grief.
    Washed under.
    You the one with words had none. You let her turn away.
    You turned away.
  • Last night for the first time in forever you dream of that sinking sailboat and that sad girl on the shore
    but dreams being dreams
    she turns into you
    and you are the one drowning
    in a choked ocean
    of words
    in waves
    of dismay and regret.


    Now here on the beach, awe.
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