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Poem - Seaside

by Andrea Cohen

Before the day at the beach,
we scouted out the day

at the beach, because
nothing happens without

planning, because we had
to plant the sand and

the idea of happiness.
We had to haul in

the water. All our
pleasures were forays

into wilds, were carry
in and out—like

our bodies, which
glistened, and were gone.

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