Sand

16May07

there’s sand between my toes and stuck to my calves

Its in my knee pits and collar bone and in my eyebrows and hair

I can taste the sun on my lips and feel it on my closed eyelids

I rake the sand with my fingers and burry my feet

the warm wind is blowing spare grains across my face

and they get caught in the corners of my eyes and mouth

and I blink to set them free onto my pink, burning cheeks

If I squint, the grey and brown buildings that rest on the skyline

look more and more like mountains that meet a perfect sea

instead of a dirty city on a dirty lake next to a dirty beach

My finger tips meet cigarrette butts and other debris

while running back and forth through the heated sand

I keep my eyes closed, because the sun is still on my face

it’s still warming my skin, cell by cell by cell and sand is everywhere

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