Somewhere on the Bay of Fundy,
high tide is rising to
the height of fifty feet
or more.
On the other hand,
I’ve never seen a land
as flat as that around
I-40 on the Texas Panhandle.
This Sunday morning I’m at home
in the middle of a summer weekend
full of coups, mass murder, and more
political 3-ring circus acts.
Still, I know there’s nothing
to be done each morning
but wake up
and swallow water.
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