Sea Salted Cocoa Nut

Hunting 

window seats,

timeless observation decks,

for things -

people really -

sifting

over and over.

I don’t understand

or pretend not to

for the sake

of a plastic beach

somewhere.



Reworking the data,

changing perspectives,

and updating the algorithm

through sips

from a tulip glass.

Making it absolutely nowhere.



Still, the water runs;

the purple coats

cry on the corner,

a blue Porsche

drifts around...

whatever you say,

space cadet.

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