Salt and bloody nosed,
she will come, sun rised.
The clouds will watch and we
will suck air like bad fash
yards out of water. Not scared,
not pitied, not legged,
and not deterred. In that kind of sand,
muscles taking the give and
pushing regardless, we are
poking fingers into found bottles
for notes unwritten and save our
souls never sent anyway. The sand is good today.
A little bit rocky, but the gulls are gorgeous and fat
chuck dipping the tide pools. Freckles don't show
this early in the morning. Who really does love
swimming at night? Validity. Comes
steep these days. The clouds still watch and we
will suck. Judgement comes cheap
these days too. Belting out a
high G I am crying and I
don't know why.
Your feet in the wave rush on those pebbles,
if anyone could call it sand without being generous,
can amaze. More to say about pedicures.
There really isn't. Collecting all of the sea glass
fingers can corral. There's still work to do.
Howl at the moon
so I can hear you over the ocean rush.
