Saturday, April 24, 2010


Trace your hand through the sand.
Smooth like a gull glides on the cirrus.
Until you are struck by grains so miniscule,
But they hide in the crevices,
And later when you go to wash up they empty out of your pockets.

It's chilly but you go for a dive on a dare.
The icy water hits you so quickly you missed a chance to breathe.
But in lesser time,
Your body is accustomed to the coldness and comfort returns.

The sun smirks as is fries your cells,
Melanin drinks in the rays like a famished animal.
You are leather like your father's briefcase.
Tiny colonies and speckles appear across your nose.
But your soul is soft with the joys of summer.

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