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Click hereNot the sound, the context. Behind me,
mere stream of liquid
hitting sand.
Erosion of a bit of beach,
but without the strength
to run its way unto the endless, azure sea.
I faced the land, imagined
Susan's crouch, her spread and lifted skirt.
Now, any ocean sounds arouse.
I once wrote a peeing on the beach poem, but it wasn't as good as yours. Nice work :)
~m