Shoreline
i say the sea is stupid,
stupid for kissing the
shoreline no matter how
many times it was sent away.
oceanography is romance.
watch each wax and wane of
moon waves, push and pull of
each warm (or cold) tidal current.
kill is unloaded, a day's plunder or
price, relief or regret, a new sack
of worries or joy with a fishy smell.
seaside lives anchored to a seabed.
edge of plunging depths, children
playing on its sand dune muscles,
all drenched in sunlight, salt-
tangled hair, sand between their
toes.
certainly not a place for
decision-making. briny sea-breath,
shoreline, hold each and every sun-
tinted horizon close to heart.