Foil gold
Bittersweet nothing.
Licking the geos
Point after point
Of flatness
Another thousand miles
To perch on
Weary haunches and
Watch the ocean murmur
Where the angry roar?
The thin mist
Of the forecast swell?
The pattern lure
Skipped out
A bum trace, no barb in the hook
You took me for a sucker, sea