1
I will drive you to the beach today,
Because winter has outstayed its welcome.
We have no tolerance for rude guests.
After all, it’s been a pair of months since
We had our last snowball fight.
We can undress to the least amount of
Decent clothing the law permits.
We will take sandals that clap our heels
Uniformly with our strides through the sand.
I’ve already packed our wicker picnic basket.
We will have ham and cheese on white bread,
Because we both agree peanut butter is unpleasant to smell.
We’ve cuddled all winter long to keep warm. Now,
We want to hold each other for the innocent pleasure
Spring promises. Now, we’re going to the beach.
2
She and I held our anticipation together
With every rotation of our odometer.
We—together—would enjoy the simple pleasure
Of watching the overbearing nines
Give way to a fresh thousand.
She pretended the AM stations
Received alien transmissions at the ends
Of the dials. When we listened, we heard music.
She had the idea to buy one another
New bathing suits. Now, I wear too short blue trunks
With green dots, speckling me like an ill duck.
3
Skipping, and kicking up sand with uncommon grace,
The sun began to set as she pranced around
Our fire. The blaze was burning out, as the sky
Took the light away. I could only barely make out
The purple of her new one-piece, that so starkly
Contrasted with her pale legs.
As the sun almost hid beneath the west, like a fawn
Her silhouette casually strolled my way.
She held her head to the stars, presenting
All of her neck. The only sounds we heard
Were the tide and her toes crunching sand.
She stopped, just toe lengths in front of me,
Arching her head back, as if deep in thought.
Her mouth opened like a growing crater
And when, in her shadow, I joined her skyward stare,
We—together—both watched the Moon come out.