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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Palm Coast Florida

There is nothing but architectural
confection along this coast.
Like varieties of ice cream.
Strawberry walls,
vanilla posts,
white sugar frosting.
Who comes and goes from such doorways?
Romps in their fountains?
The sea pushes toward them
like leaded glass.
On one side a carosol,
on the other wind and time.

What prevails?
How long will this toyland last
before it crumbles before a hurricane?
Before everything dies
in this vast littoral,
and the outward reach
of the marine universe beyond?
A crime has been committed.
We know it,
but no one is presumed guilty.
Who would the sea drown first?

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