skidding over puddles on the palms of my hands
feet straight up and back
gliding over murky and dark
teeth bared, staying on top.
dip below, what's to be found?
creatures creating endless patterns
replicating themselves
swimming and squirming in their infinite grooves.
but alas, the fear subsides beneath the surface.
seems that watching the writhing from outside
might just be worse than getting in their way.
the harm they purport
is but a function of the path they maintain.
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