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Saturday, October 1, 2016

                                                                  Danny Armour


                                               My friend Danny went too deep below

                                                      the top of the Atlantic Ocean.

Soon now

     the cave opening

             would come

                       and he would not breathe as he had breathed

                                for thirty-five years.

The hose

     had broken apart

              that's all

                       and the bubbles had flown like

                                fair balloons on strings

he'd bought

    her.  He was lost

                  in rock

                       alike as lawns and windows

                                of his neighbors but


    feet undersea

              where men

                        shouldn't be.  He'd never dive

                                 again, not dollars

for air.

    Never dive

              where he

                       wasn't welcome like back home

                                 in the woods of Tennessee.

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