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Mississippi Summer MAG
Blind love – he kisses my sunburnt shoulder
Tempting my toes to bury themselves
beneath the gray Pascagoula sand,
Like the tiny snowcrabs
Who play tag below the rotten Point pier.
He hums a melody I try to sing
But I can no longer recall the words
So I rhyme foolish lyrics about a Mississippi pirate
and the seagulls scream [stop!]
As the waves play their earthen drum.
A man walks by and offers a toothless grin
Proud as hell for his half-empty Jack
and mange-eaten mutt.
I had a dog like that as a child;
I called him Magnolia.
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