the beach
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I’d never ridden a motorcycle before.
But when she asked if she could take me for a ride
I couldn’t find a single reason to say no.
it was winter when we met
and summer when you left
maybe there’s some irony in that,
but i haven’t found it yet.
as soon as our eyes met,
Wooden beams and wooden planks
And salty sea scented air
Drew our souls near the edge
And then just held them there
The wind whipped our hair
The cold bit our noses
The cool brisk air hitting my face,
as I walk on the sand at a steady pace.
I hear the ocean crashing a tune,
as the firefly’s dance across the moon.
the overcast sea smells
of cocoa butter and salt
warm air floating heavy and
a dead bird on the ground.
the streets are clear and gray
summertime is over and
the beach house windows are black
