My friends and I are
kicking sand and
splashing about in tide pools.
Those small puddles, simulations
Of the real thing 50 yards behind us.
We turn together, in a moment
Blinded by the sun, squinting to see
The waves of deep, foamy teal.
And we stagger across the hot sand,
Young feet aching for the chilly surf,
The tide drifting lazily in and out of reach.
Now I’m alone on this beach
And everything I didn’t say
Becomes this silent mile between
Land and sea.
I hear you laugh, I see you smile
and I’m goddamn jealous of —
What, exactly? It’s so easy to remember
This moment but forget the following years.
The retreating surf tugs at my feet,
Remnants of some great wave I couldn’t see,
Yet existed all the same.