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Drawbridge

poetry by Charles Albano


Drawbridge

From the drawbridge
I watch the tall masts
of the unhurried sailboats
move across the horizon
like the cross-hairs
on a slide rule,
calculating distance traveled
against pleasure gained.

Meanwhile, the big power yachts
sit idle dockside
burning off gasoline
under the baking sun,
white opulence
lapping wet yawns.


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