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The Gulf in the Sea of Key
Tuscany shades and hues, thatched roof, dry
in a field that's whiskey clear;
pretentious are all my docile minutes
whose very moments l do fear.
Spreckled, twisted awnings gleam
so wildly beautiful to my eye;
the withered truth is replicated
'til it clearly tells a lie.
Afterwards, pressed coats and cardigans
become outfits in many ways;
they'll be lined-up and seen in the fog
just to clarify it's not a haze.
Semi-rusty lemon drops
stretch my pockets to the "full";