Gray Water

Grant Durr on Unsplash

boardwalk beach goers
strolled in ball caps,
and in wide-brimmed hats,
and in flip flops,

and in cover-ups casually tied over low-slung bikinis
they lined the railing of the weathered pier,
eyes half closed, hands folded, heads atilt,
shoulders squared to a fading sun

a familiar form among the silhouettes,
twenty years hence,
a cascade of raven hair,
a billowing summer dress,

my single breath,
then across rutted planks
to finally slake the thirst for another and
be free of the malfeased heart

the lilt of perfume,
light, breathless, familiar,
transported back through time
to burn white hot again

only to blanch at the precipice,
before the gray water,
silent