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Going for coffee after a fight

Gulls bark like dogs as we toss them
crumbs of of a blueberry coffeecake.
Waves roll onto the pebbled shore.
The harsh caw of the gulls pierces
the flesh of the waves’s woven sound.
The sunlight rubs warm our faces.
She says the gulls have language.
I say they do not discuss Truth or Beauty.
She smiles saying they’ve not the luxury.
The shore’s music continues, fading
with cackles of gulls as we walk home.

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