we once made love,
on a shell and
shingle stone beach.
it was a cold,
uncomfortable affair,
of clacking, shifting.
a scratching, scrying game,
of hard, hurried, thrusting.
riding waves of tepid saltwalter
and banging, barging,
bruising ice beneath
our backs.

but we,
were new to love,
in need of intimacy
and at least,
there was no sand,

i remember, the next day
our backs and buttocks,
were pokmarked with bruises.
a karmic reminder of our
base human greed