Snaking the coast

I sit pondering on the edge of the ocean under a black sky. The pregnant pink moon hung calling me like a moth or an urchin. Feet dangling off the cliff, suspended, floating. Cars high beam flash like liquid knifes through the sky, through me as I sit in the ether. The contrast is too perfect and I don't desire to fall, not yet. I hook my feet under the balustrade and continue snaking the coast.
The water watches.

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