Wrack Lines by Karla Linn Merrifield I wake up in a holiday cliché posthumous Valentine's Day hurricane-wrenched gale-whipped superlative saddest season id est red tide's dead fish beach-rotting say it's so round the island ring of death Here is not the scaleshine of happiness I arrive in the wild kingdom of trite in February asking what is it all about? why these tears?
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