there's a wine
stain
on my white shirt. or is it
blood?
I don't even drink wine
and I have no cuts.
it's shaped
like
a map of some island
in the west indies.
I can see
the coastline.
the trees
swaying.
I can see the natives
waiting to greet me
as I step
off the boat,
coming ashore.
it was that kind
of night. the shirt is
done,
but i'll keep it.
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