42 died today.
Parched and dry from working in the heat,
existing at such a rapid speed.
They could be seen driven to the water, leaning in for a sip
and then a moment of panic as her very molecular structure and tension wrapped around them,
the age-old siren pulling at their hands,
and dragging them under.
I wade warily through the chlorine blue shallows and wonder if a dead bee can still sting.
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