When the motor stops, I can't sleep.
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There's nothing so quiet as a boat under anchor,
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and the black amnesias in heaven are lighting the Sea of Cortez.
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All the wishing sounds,
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and kissing sounds are all missing sound in a boat alone,
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without a spring after winter and a fall over summer.
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Is there anyone else alive outside?
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So vulgar to send these brakes to the bend on the empty blue side of the moon.
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Where you broke your body,
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you kept on wandering
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and I'm still listening but your still drowning.
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You broke your body,
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before I could get to you.
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The dew soaks the deck like the breeze hits your neck,
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and its morning when your hair finds your eyes.
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Mourning eyes.
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California can't see the sun rise.
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We're both firesigns dragging our line's line,
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only magic to have a crack in the wire.
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And California won't see another Sunday,
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as the poets say, "the ice will bar the way".
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-----------------
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The Sea of Cortez
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The Promise Ring |