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In Different Waters (NaPoWriMo 2022 #19)
Where do I swim?
Literally nowhere.
Figuratively,
in so many
oceans;
often rivers
of some sort of art
that flowed
from someone,
Nourished by the flow
the stream of sensing,
that rippled
something within me.
Often I ride
on the crest
of a wave
of emotions,
invoked by moments
coursed and sourced
from a place
intangible,
so difficult to explain
to others who only gasp and gulp at
who only know metal and plastic
and not the sea of similes.
Literally nowhere.
Figuratively,
in so many
oceans;
often rivers
of some sort of art
that flowed
from someone,
Nourished by the flow
the stream of sensing,
that rippled
something within me.
Often I ride
on the crest
of a wave
of emotions,
invoked by moments
coursed and sourced
from a place
intangible,
so difficult to explain
to others who only gasp and gulp at
who only know metal and plastic
and not the sea of similes.
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