I heard your violin
swoon
and the sand on my back

I'm sinking

the cold wind
feels colder than
last summer
and more familiar
all the same.

and I can write symphonies to your sounds
to the waves
to the crackling of the fire that went out

(long ago)

and I heard your violin play
and I heard it cry
and I heard it reaching for me
as I waited for the waves
the tide
to touch my legs

a
crash

of cold

and the waves hit my knees
and there's salt in my eyes

and I can't stop laughing.
hysterically laughing
and crying
(it's all the same,
Pacific
Atlantic)

I heard your violin swoon and
it kissed the stars
and me.


I'm
  sinking.