stepping down upon
the sand;
it burns my soul
it burns my man.
I look upon the blyeyestering sun
and
see myself
running fingers through my hair,
feels so funny
like I’m not there
scratching&peeling these dead upon layers
and
see myself
flapping my towel & the sand hitting others
looking at sons putting lotions on mothers
the gulls screeching their miniature roar
and
see myself
the horizon hiring itself
to the fire and rulers tend back
to their quaint empire
sitting upon the cold painted bench
and
see myself
the eyes of me fall far beyond thought
I was already out there and got tangled and caught
in a deep deep place
and
see myself
the thoughts of me
and
see myself.