monday morning at the beach high tide

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