Summer

we see the last survivor of a doomed world
hunched over and jagged legged
as waves turn ashore, dirty blonde hair
obscures her face and long white dress the same for too skinny legs,
draw back and repeat against the sharpie marker cut horizon,
the sea and the sky,
and little girls, running back and forth
against the challenging tides,
a seagull, the gods ocean sentry
looks on, aged eyes watching the moving
and immovable,
a wooden stake marks mans accomplishment
at finding the sea,
back and forth we struggle
with the sands and pride and salt-wind,
like a miner drawing forth from the earth,
hard hat and yellow muddy gloves
replaced by sunscreen and bathing suit,
we raise a multi-colored umbrella-flag on native shores,

you walk beside me shifting,
the ocean recedes before us
a school of dolphin trailing fish,
laying traps and playing ancient tricks,
somewhere.

the sea air is a memory
made real by the burn of the sun
and your skin against mine,
the sand left in our shoes,
a never was-always dream
somewhere,
counting backwards to
the end of the world.