the cold wind blew uncut
as ocean waves kicked stone gray jetties
large gaping cracks between the rocks
long suggestive pauses in our dialogue
steps away a homasote haunted castle
beyond a secret mist two blocks
in the distance a single
block between what we said and
what pooled below the surface
moist light beach sand crisp night air
a buoy on the horizon this is your turf
your haunting ground the smells salt sweet
gulls and mussels and popcorn blended
inseparable from that late summer visit
our individual yet tethered travels
returning each of us again to us
in our own ocean so deep we may not swim
beyond the mystery
of the tingling unhinging phrases unstrung
broken guitar strings a chipped boardwalk
recollection
stunning afternoon thru evening tones
incidental sublimations consequential
quirks of fate probing endless questions
colored by scattered sighs barely audible
experience unsaid unconsummated ties
that clouds cover us and the moon
that night one of our full moons
stalking us the jangle of atlantic city
fading in the distance
your tales of dancing on the steel pier
hints, whispered non-sequiturs, double entendres
glimpses ? wishes ? desires ?
a circle of sand around your blanket
endless conversation smoke inside
my eyes around your eyes
(should we touch) (should we try ? )
we did not and
wondered why...
-- douglas brent smith
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