3.

Where the ocean ends. Where it chooses to end
on the shore. On the beach. Where families sit.

Contaminating the sand with oils and plastic,

Synthetic chrome wrappers and aluminum.

Yet, stoic, powerful, ominous and effervescent.

A leviathan of forces unfathomed by those who sit

And gape. Breathing from open mouths. Screaming, shrill

Staccato. Dotted liked tacky mustard yellow and cobalt blue

on a stretch of beautiful umber that should flow. like the webbing

of foam that floats atop the gentle viridian monster.

I wait for the day when we prod it to the breaking point.

One final sliver of glass, catching the sunlight on one crystal edge.

Rips one final gash in the sand and the waves reclaim what is theirs.

Learn to swim.

 

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *