I was going South, walking on beige lake-wall
immensely focused on each pattern and grain
of every single rock at Belmont harbor.  My body
wanted to scream out of it's skin how deeply
I fell in love with their lives, endlessly content
with being beaten by Lake Michigan.  I counted
each wave, each blow as they slammed against
the boulders screaming Remember Me! before
returning back into themselves.

I was walking North.  On the white smooth gravel
heading home.  I had a moment in my own head
about how crazy it might seem to Strangers
if I told them the rocks had introduced themselves
to me and given me their names.  A man walked
his bike on those same rocks, an affair I didn't mind.
"I was just seeing if I had the courage
to ride my bike up here" he said to me.  He must've
seen me smile, and with that thought, I bloomed;
"Oh please do."  How silly we both were
to feel ashamed of our love for boulders.