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We are watching them make
their way towards the up-turned life
guard stand
waiting from the bench
with a Rent-a-John behind us
a door swings
and we know just were we are -
laughter from the beach
echoes familiar tones emptying
itself in our laps
Comfortable chatter rests on the
surreality of a sliced orange moon
resting against our horizon
rising in the summer's breeze,
bridging us to the open skies
from our nave
No longer strangers, patience for their
dance on the open beach
the hint of flesh behind the white linen
of his shirt
arrests now from the corner of my eye
widening at each button
A stolen kiss,
a rare moment and he motions me to clear
my vision,
time-keeper, the hour-glass of the ascending moon
becomes this mirror
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