wallowing in,
standing out,
waiting for the rain, a sad sack,
lying on a lay low,
floating on the chlorine field,
of some pool,
sustained throughout drought,
to keep tourism,
intact,
and, in fact,
because here, we lie,
beneath clear skies,
empty headed,
apathetic,
in fact,
we've earned this,
this land, that time,
and progress,
forgot.
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