still rough
lists flutter in the social breeze of course, all the tribunals, modern tribes a coast dark blue with them, somewhere I go down to the gulf one day join the breeze and I don't know anyone tide has washed in pieces of broken brick the gulls dive for fish if that means I don't care though I pick up a piece almost circular, red, mineral-specked I could skim it I put it in my pocket it's still rough there seems no point in keeping it it's in a bowl on a low table today is a grey day I felt it just now
