the home next to your families
looks just like my grandmothers

the sound of crashing waves
the breeze of a cool atlantic
and the sun kissing your skin

it's easy to sleep with the sand at your feet
and not be sure
if this is just a dream

arugula and watermelon
and the joy in pain
of sunscreen in my eyes
your eyes disappeared into the sky
and the car smelled of running feet

i remembered a dream from long ago
while you were tying your hair
and standing before me against the blue horizon
le tournesol de la beau rivage
was finally real and present

the trees have returned to us
their greatest shadows
so we may lie beneath their limbs
and hold each other close

the morning sun does not rise
back between the marshes on the bay
where colors remain dividing lines of gravity
where the horizon never seems at hand

on land, at a distance,
i can clearly see your vision
features all your own
the blue of your eyes, the curve of your brow

but it's july and we are at a distance.
nothing unsurmountable
not of lengths saved for olympians
but i fear the phenomenon of a mirage

heated air swirled 'round
my barefoot toes
the grass sat wet and dull
i heard the birds chirp confused
and my heart fluttered like their wings
tress budded red
only to be frozen
false starts and heart attacks
after the groundhog saw his shadow.