that day we watched the seagulls steal our lunch.
by the bay by the beach
claire says, be careful of the sun.
where it tries to intervene:
helpless, you swallowed your laughter as
my eyes became damp over the loss of a sandwich.
a lack of screens or shutters
zip-lock bags were no match for beaks.
a bouquet of tastes: a sample of this coming winter
we collected sea glass along the shoreline,
primarily in the hue of roses.
and the wind is like the wind
in most places
it wasn’t until later that we learned of the sewage being drained into the ocean.
home smells of every memory, i am the last to admit
but, i suppose, where did we think the waste was going, after all?
and your bed is like the beds
in most places,
please keep your sorrows buried under your tongue.
though perhaps it creaks a little more
if this lingers for too long.