NOAH FALCK


                                     



LAKE




Sick with boats.
Sick with people in swimwear.

The water bright with tidal plastic.
At sunset, the lake is a city

memorizing the sky
stuck on orange meets

pink meets the last part
of a never before blue.

It's a ruined work of art.
Now clouded, gray, gone.

Shirtless men point to every
moving thing on the horizon.








TYPO 32