I’m sorry I can’t write nice things about the beach

a blow up pool

with water and feet in it

is what I remember from that day

and the bits of grass in the pool

and the sun

shining on me in a way

that I took personal

like it was more violent to me than it was

to the girl across the yard

with the knuckle tattoos

too far away for me to read of course

not a single hand shake all year

not a single comment

on the softness of my palms

but the feet underwater

they touch the same

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: