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How often I dream of you, Daddy, always
on a beach, in a fog. I try to reach you across
the rugged sand. You stand by a boulder, swing
the fishing rod, surfcasting.
I catch the shimmer of a silver lure on the edge
of consciousness. How I yearn to stay as the sun burns steadily
through the fog of sleep until I wake.
stars on the sea—
into the big dipper