I just hold the board
tightly, taking one of
the waves, without real
thought, parading toward
the shore. Maybe the sky
will darken tomorrow, maybe
I’ll take the car to some
point, to get a fresher
perspective, let the next
swell tell me what’s in
store. Then when the sun
decides to brigten, and
I feel I’ll turn to a
million pieces before I reach the
edge of the water running
hard with all that’s left
in me. With all that you
might contain but won’t.
Though you say hello
with a hug, once in a while.
A wet shoulder against
your cotton clothing goes
un-noticed the way it’s
night before or after
independence or christmas
day, I don’t remember
and in going by
it is also surprising
you stopped and told me so.