suddenly, i found myself back
again, on this barren beach.
the black sands packed
hard against the hidden
ground and the frothy, white
breakers beat against its
stubborn brow over and
over and over again. the shore,
calloused and indifferent
to the footprints left by
gulls and people alike.
crabs signaled my approach
and took shelter in their
cozy bunkers and Summer’s
last pelican watched as i
stumbled over my tired words.
it was this time last year
that you and i found our way
to this empty beach. only the
brambles and the windswept
shadows of driftwood remembered
me. but i remembered you.
i remembered how your
sun-kissed skin seeped love and
sex into the dark, sandy dunes
and i remembered how the waves and
water swirled around your locks like
tentacles trying to drag you back
home, back into the depths from
where you crawled in the early days
of our own evolution. i remembered
the salty taste of kisses we shared
while watching the distant sun
drip westward and dive, headlong
into the black waters, made
ruler-straight by the even-handed
chiseling of light that’s traveled over
the vast expanses of your rocky surface.
no mountain can remain afloat in the sea
for too long, and like us, they all
succumb to the sterile flavors of the
deep, and sink willingly into their new
home, far below the surface of things we see.