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Contour Lines 

Radiate outwards in countless dunes

Lifting scorched badlands, built by decades

Of changing weather and threatening skies.

This covering has served me well.

Wrestling with childhood friends,

Embracing faintly removed lovers,

Holding incinerated remains

Waiting to rest with stars.

My fingertips follow their paths,

Circling endlessly in the plain

Between elbow and wrist -

A line for everyone.

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Kirk Gothier

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