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Sometimes at murky lake with the tall tales
Breaking a green sealant on runny marsh
Some endure, some only submerge
Others go deep below into darkness
They say they stay that way sometimes
The ripples aren’t alive or dead
At best, they’ll rock you to sleep
At worst, they’ll knock you around
They travel from you to you to you to you
A fading exclamation of time loud and soft
The swans demand a quiet stroll
Medieval arrows dart violently
Down then up, wet with a cleanse
Feathers shudder from tip to toe
Eyes adjust, a call is answered
I’ve sipped the water from other lakes
Each taste is filled with complexities
Tastes of shoes, cottonseed, and cream
Tastes I can’t place, tastes of granite and gunfire
All quenched my thirst without question
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