In a riptide of rememberings
anchored down
by the box in my arms
the sand
we caressed as one
slips out.
The wind snatches my hair
changing it
into one of the clouds
we used to watch
and I see your face
as I did one day
blue as the ocean
before goodbye.
I wiggle my feet down into
the cool sand
as I whisper I love you
to the laughing wind
that carries your voice
like a soft breeze
and my heart beats loud
so you can hear
I miss you dear.
I tip the box, the sand
slips by like our time
and along with the grains
cards and pictures
sketches and memories
fall into the open sea
and I feel my heart break
free
from the frozen chains
it created
and all the hollow places
begin to fill
with candy-coated rays
of the sun.
Martians aren’t from Mars
and can’t be found
on distant stars
and maybe that’s why
I can’t find you on earth.
6/15/1995
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