I'm Thinking About the Water Down Below / And What Got Lost
Washed Up on Shore
Her fingers smell of vodka
The fumes of sanitizer streaks.
At my job,
I watch the dying line,
Dynamos and bored robots,
Gigolos and juggernauts.
The night was peeled,
Revealing yellow stripes
Along her spine,
Her sweating shoulder blades.
The years of kissing in crosswalks
Of public huddles sharing breaths
Bob above,
Beneath the ocean crests.
Every love you cast away
Will find its passage back
With liquor sweet,
With newly sprouted teeth.
- 5/20/20