You retreated
to a recollection of something true.
That came in like a wave of the past that swelled and crashed
against the rocks
drew the sand underneath your toes to pull you back
and you felt your whole body want to move into the water.

I still see you on that empty shore while you
squinted into the sunset
to see the surfer boys in their wetsuits.
Taking pictures of dead birds half buried in the sand
and broken condoms washed up beside the seaweed
and your footprint in the sand

This sand held more than memory
because you always go back-

as if it will always exist
always be true.
as if those footprints will never wash away

-always just in view of the Santa Monica Pier.

You're Fishing off the end
and taking pictures of the fearless seagulls that flapped
and gobbled up the cast off remains.

I find you there, staring at the sand
following those footprints of your life
back to that place.
I see you staring towards the water-
after the surfer boys
leaping into the cold waves while throwing off your t-shirt
and letting your clothes wash out of your hand - forgotten -
rolling into the shore then out again


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