The words that wrought the spell were those below. I was, as quick as that: transported.
Upon the old amusement pier I watchJack Spicer, Imaginary Elegies IV
The creeping darkness gather in the west.
Above the giant funhouse and the ghosts
I hear the seagulls call. They're going west
Toward some great Catalina of a dream
Out where the poem ends.
But does it end?
The birds are still in flight. Believe the birds.
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