I come to the sea, even though this time of year it is inconvenient,
all roads overcrowded, overrun with beach wear and bratty kids, hanging out the
windows of minivans and decade old cars with bald tires, this last day ahead of
summer’s last month, and a few days passed the anniversary of a birthday that still
makes me sting inside, though the sand I encounter – into which my toes sink –is
not quick sand, and with a bit of effort I can quickly escape.
This sea, thick with gulls and the littered remains of some
tourist’s fast food picnic, calling to me, touching something deep in my bones
I cannot and will not ignore, each wave washing over my bare feet, replacing
the sticky sand with the efflorescent kiss of bring, alone yet not along, the
sound of the sea nearly drowned out by the screech of kids, yet not lough
enough to do away with the siren’s song that brought me here, your voice as unflappable
as that of the sea itself, the backdrop against which whole worlds reside.
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