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The road we did take
that winds for miles
through the Keys, creeps
along the shore shaded
by conifers and jack pine,
thick with hidden birds,
sandy conclave of horse-tail,
detritus and small lizards,
berries of some kind grown
through parts of rusted cars -
this is the stretch, where
last night, Ponce de Leon
was vainglory poisoned,
alligator dunged; here
we lift handfuls of wet sand;
clots fall apart, our hands
are empty and we eat
horizon for hours.
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