setting your watch to a belly of a dog

springs and sprockets carried on a Crimean surf

cards with men wearing sleeves stamped with mermaids, anchors: momentos and hexes and the names of lovers stranded by the low tide

like us: dried up and bottomed out,
stamping timesheets , winking at dirty jokes 
eating dinners in silence as the hull whistles 
thru bullet holes.

counting the days ...

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