Cave Games
When we sit at the long picnic tables,
twenty of us in the ocean by the cave,
rowdy with our drinking, we fling cups in
rotation, throwing them high and low and
our shit beer floats to dirty the water and Clay
beside me wears his puffy winter coat, he
helps me tie my hiking boots, bunny ears
style, awkward incest thoughts in our heads
we touch thighs and lose balance, lose the game
and tumble off the bench into the shallow water
beside the Mediterranean cave where Cyclops
sits and laughs at us for being so blind.