I want blue horizons again. Long open oceans
where shimmery distances veil the sacred union
of sea kissing sky.
Wrap me in hot breezes, let me taste
your skin slick and salty to the tongue,
lie with me on white gauze.
I want gull song in slow afternoons,
watching tides wash up their driftwood,
and fish bones, and time bleached memories,
We’ll swim in the lazy latitudes of the mind,
write our history in the sand and ignore all choices
harder than how to add lemon in the glass.