Our Beach

You looked at me and told me I smelled good.
I had just opened my eyes to find you
Staring at me, fingers pressed to your nose.
I looked at the seagulls, hovering, hoping
To be fed by some tourists with bags of breadcrumbs.
I flowed into the absorbing blues of sky and water
As the waves rolled inward, then back out.
White, frothy foam: the stuff of insignificance-
And I wondered why beginnings and endings
Are never clear at their happening.
You kissed my mouth
And the warmth of your lips liberated my concern.


{August '04}