Twelve, times new roman
is not just a font,
words created the seas
between two inescapably narrow shores
too shallow and too sore to become one land again
and within them sprouted algae and fragile sea turtles
The words hugged one another,
in time these will vanish
but now they were new;
freshly cut they puked the story
like little, lame pebbles
lined up against an old Roman olive tree
Was it worth the tsunami, then?
Is it worth the rumble between
the two sides of the same coin
flipping madly in the head
flipping for
a single line, double stressed thought.
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