the
fruit has turned again
alcohol
fragrant
smile
at the thought of them
lolling
on a beach
inverted
and drunk and certain of
turning
right side again
every
wave an ally
tomorrow
the eggs will hatch and the young will
race
to the sea, Darwinically pursued
by
rapacious winged predators
half
will die the rest will find the sea
and
live.
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