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64 Key West Elegy The January breeze elates the palm beside the bay.Anhingas, caped and calm as old morticians, test the morning air. Not death, but fishing, fits the bill.What balm, what fake flamingo mercy, drew me here where doors are turquoise—daily forecasts fair? Roosters roam the town.The mangrove strings its roots above the water, poised to snare me in a tangled dream. Here the wings of ibis scroll across the sky, their wintering a pale calligraphy. For me, the cost of drifting this far south? Ease that sings with no desire to end the song. I’ve tossed to sea my thoughts of heading north—frost and leafless trees. I’ll turn instead to psalm of sunsets.Twilight, lose me, keep me lost. ...

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