This afternoon,
chriscrick took me and
hans_the_bold out sailing on the Long Island Sound. We worked the jib; he had the mainsail and steered. The sky was summer-swimming blue and the wind was steady, and the sea was sunlit green and there were seals on the rocks. Drifts of rust-colored seaweed floated past in the water. There is salt crystallized in my hair and my right hand is blistered; I went barefoot until we got back to campus, and my corduroys are soaked through at the knees. I am much, much better.
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- 1: A stranger light comes on slowly
- 2: A kidnapper wouldn't jump into a cold sea
- 3: I might fail math if you don't move your shoulder
- 4: One boundary makes another
- 5: I swear only this city knows
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- 7: From the morning past the evening to the end of the light
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