I spent ten minutes on the seashore, wondering
What it would be like to go under.
-----
My imprint in the sand looked like any other rolling hill
On the vast expanse of beach.
And so, I lay down and tried to make an impression
Tried to teach stubborn sand a lesson
But when I stood up, it was no different from what it was before.
One cannot make a shape when one is not formed yet.
-----
I tossed stones across the water, choosing the flat, round ones
They fit into the palm of my hand perfectly, and they sank with barely a sound.
The ripples that they made lasted for what seemed eternities
And I could not throw another until the last was completely gone.
They were smooth and they were noiseless
They were soft and they were the symbol of least resistance
And they crept into my thoughts.
Who am I to make the world









look any different?
-----
The sand in my hair never shook out easily.
I must stand under a hose and rub.
Then, as I lie in my bed, I trace my scalp
And find stragglers.
It is comforting to see that the sand stays with me
And a piece of me remains with it
Between the water and the sky
Suspended on a line between two realities
Two true blues.
-----
I would look like a lunatic if I tried to kiss the ground
I would come up with sand in my mouth
And the people with their children would stare at me even more than they do now
Lead their lovers away
To a less populated place.
So I will wait until they all go away
Until the night, when the moon hovers and bathes the world in precious metals.
Then I can embrace what I want.
-----
Umbrellas all look the same from the water
How am I to tell where I've drifted?