Friday, August 30, 2013

In The Time of Sandcastles

In the Time of Sandcastles

June 10, 2013 at 12:40am

In the time of sandcastles
we exfoliated digging
trenches with our feet in
sand finer than sugar
and swore we'd never
pay for a pedicure again.
We'd walk and walk and walk
till the muscles of our bare feet ached
and then until they didn't anymore.
We never used sunscreen.
Drank bloody marys in the morning,
mint tea in the afternoon,
from the same sweating glasses
washed several times each day
in the tiny modular kitchenette.

In the time of sandcastles
drifting sleepy on my hot pink raft,
a wave knocks me into the turquoise
while you are sunning
face down on the beach.
I nearly drown,
drag myself ashore somehow.
Vomit a gallon or so of seawater at
the tideline. Stumble to our blanket
and collapse, still gasping.
You let out a melodious little snore.

In the time of sandcastles
we wreck our nails peeling shrimp,
cut our hands cracking blue crabs,
lips flaming from cayenne and lemon
extinguished by icy long necks,
Toss heads and legs to the gulls
circling and screaming above the canopy.
Long before the time it was safe to kiss
the butter shine from your lips in public,
I lick mine at you anyway and
watch you glance around, trying to
hide your blushing giggle.

In the time of sandcastles
night was still dark.
The Milky Way reflected so brightly on the water
we could see clearly with no moon and the flashlight off,
and walk some more on the cool sand.
Quiet so loud, only the crash of the waves
and nothing else unless we spoke.
Windows open, cold breeze blew the sheers
out long over our bed.
Salt taste of warm sun brown flesh
with the fun parts glowing cool moist white.
Sleeping with the roar of the Gulf
for our lullaby

In the time of sandcastles
the smell of our neighbor's bacon
woke us and hurried our coffee.
We torture them with the scent
of biscuits baking while they make do with toast.
We drank bloody marys in the morning,
mint tea in the afternoon
from the same sweating glasses
washed several times each day
in the tiny modular kitchenette.

I had 5 of these each year

1 comment:

Cyn said...

5 years ago today. I wasn't going to post this. 10 years ago I made the worst mistake of my life. I'm not sure it would have made any difference, had I gone to her instead of staying. Death is there for all of us. But I would have had those everydays.