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Oh, the bay is beautiful
but my back hurts.

                                     Yoga
is just too difficult.

                      The boats dart,
to and fro,
to and fro.

“To and fro?”

Gentle
poem, why only now
you come to me,
                                 an
aquamarine I haven’t
known since childhood?

In my car.

                           In the
parking lot.

                           Behind
Blanchard’s.