a continuing series of ever increasing oddities, part XV

there was
a shifting
a low howl
that registered
just under
just above

then a sudden surge
as the absent minded water
came rushing back
with a longing
for the shore
so abrupt
it crashed
over the sea wall
the crowded streets
leaving nothing
but rubble
in it’s frantic need
to return
to the dry land

the yellow ball
in the thrall
of the silt
was upturned
to dance on the currents
pulled along
the invisible threads
of motion
in the salty bay
of reconvergance

the fickle fingers
of fate herself
would tug it back
to the safety
of the milk crate
in the small patio
nestled behind
the wooden fence

she wouldn’t

it rode the chaos
only to be forgotten
in the assembled trash
that now littered the streets
wedged between
an overturned hot dog cart
and a sign
for psychic readings

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