Aug 122011
moves so that among myriad fast foams she creeps leaving a perforated trail behind sleepily in gravid sand back to the leaping sea Humped above the scumline she halts squats lays her hidden egg-clutch --Gulls bugs at a bonfire dive and feast upon them as she retreats echo by echo to the sea-- Believe it or not like an old pair of crossed shoes casually deliberately thrown away they mate in the surf! one atop the other lovers full of blue bloods
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