dusk, mid-august
the bayside air hangs in the moonlight,
broken street lamps scattered around the neighborhood drive
only one is lit as we walk to the dock.

the light at the very edge of the beach looks inviting,
looks like it's saying "come home",
looks like it wants us to hold each other there

we walk carelessly up the winding sidewalk,
nearly tripping over rocks lodged in the cracks
we stop as we reach the glow of the lamp

i remember the way it felt to hold him as the sun went down
and came back up
suddenly my feet are resting against his
and
we are swaying.

he cannot dance. neither can i.
but we are doing our best and we are swaying
and there is no music
but i know we are perfectly in tune with something.
and we are laughing,
we are dancing.