the ocean was wrapped up packed up wrapped up
and sent from east to west coast



[i have the urge to throw said shell into the ocean’s other arm, but i’m sure the pacific…she’ll just spit it back out again.  then some little boy will come along and pick it up and drop it in his pocket and hold it there, thoughtlessly stroking the smooth side with his thumb as the sun wanes.  the next time his mother does laundry it will more than likely loosen in the wash and she’ll get irritated and throw it in the garbage thinking, “boys…”, never considering the travels that shell may have made to land itself in the bottom of her washing machine.]


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Keep me away from the wisdom which does not cry, the philosophy which does not laugh and the greatness which does not bow before children.
-Kahlil Gibran

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