i.
monday morning at the beach high tide
but almost no surf
waves as high as my ankles
the sun rises higher
peeks into the cove
light spilling down into a pool of sea
a curl of rocks & swaying seagrass
creates a translucent dream in water
chased with bubbles and foam
like a place i'd assume
a goddess or miss nyad would emerge
so chaste so shy delicately dripping
ii.
an enclosed getaway seen from the sand
table for two at an open double window
i've never seen it occupied
the rendezvous faces the sea on a cliff
there's art in the walls and cunning signal flags
sometimes they leave an outside spotlight on
it's a sodium arc oldish yellow pointing down
into the void to a spot on the sand
they might sip tea at dawn's first light
or late in the night eat rare steaks
otherwise it seems like holding space
holding space commanding a sweet view
holding emptiness and being far away
i am that tragedy and so are you
iii.
high tide receding with gentle waves
at the place where seaglass has been gently placed
he reeks of cigarettes and marijuana
i wonder if he can smell it
we all reek i assume mine is sweet
to some i surely offend
now that i think about this
all i can do is sense
he faces the sea he takes a selfie coughs
he reeks and the sea reeks
but the morning light is right
near him i find purple sea glass of the rarest kind
under where he stood i find a piece that looks like a crystal
and dogs run free the pristine beach is marked
but no matter while we are away it will redraw
our stink molding somewhere else
and more seaglass but i must go
we all must go
