The seaside

She is in love with the seaside
She is right on the edge
of a place
where no men walk

The sun is easy,
a wine-colored disk
low on the horizon
where no men walk

Her hair is free
It’s tossed,
like her heart
often she forgets
she sits on the edge
of where no men walk

The breeze is spiritual
and the salt-scent mixes
with her frustrated smile,
making some sort of glossy,
magazine perfume smell

The clouds change their dance
Their colors shift against the sun
They pause
then give way to brilliance

She cries
and next cries out
Her tears grace the sand
She yells
and is barely drowned out
by the waves

She sits at his feet
She can’t tell
if he loves her
or if he’s toying with her heart

“Please, I’m begging you
begging you!
Please let this be real.”
She cries on the edge
of where no men walk

The lights explode
across the waters
spilling as far as the eye sees
The lights scatter
like frantic insects
in the night

The man lifts up her chin
with a hand
His eyes are too vibrant
for her to look
so she gazes instead
out to the place
where no men walk

“I am he,”
he says
“I am the man
who went there,”
he points
“Out to the place
where no men walk”

“I
drowned
for you,” he says

With a tear, she asks
“Aren’t you the one
who made water
his walkway?”

He nods.
“Yes, but I still chose to drown for you”


-B-