Your little heart flips
maybe
spins off a pirouette
the
way a page torn from a dream flutters
as
it falls
& I wait where
the gull’s
call
pierces the thundering
concrete the wash of foam the
wet sand sliding
beneath my
feet the raw
mist relentless
as
drifting ashes of neon . . .
the sky dropping in to add a
little
contrast
Your jungle
canopy
&
the shattered glass
with
a seabreeze
strumming
the fence wire
&
the fortune palms
like the tide
whispering your name
