Endless swells of sand
A girl who draws lines in them
Concentric circles spiraling out in a mandala
A boy who stands in their center
Arms raised like a cultish leader
Incantations seep the fogged air to seek the sun
He has a millstone around his soul
His body is lean and smells of coffee grounds
Pulsing with the subtle need to be held
The girl wants a sandwich
Grilled cheese would be nice, on sourdough
Dreams of a dwelling
(cabin/yurt/treefort)
To build with her own hands and live in
They’ll grow up
She might find cancer in her breasts one day
Or maybe not
He might fall in love with a taxidermist
But that is one in a constellation of possibilities
Spitting like grains of sand from the place
Where the stick slices into the dune
Fate being drawn
And they both turn their tight, smiling faces
To greet it