Sarasota Beach.
You’d been to this place
Before, long before



You’d met Earl or his
Sour sister Pearl
Or her friend Mrs



Gillespie for this
Picnic on this stretch
Of sand. When was that



Now? A girl then. And
Not picnicking. Who
Was it with back then?



The Milton boy? Yes.
Him with the dark hair
And big blue eyes. You’d



Walked this beach hand in
Hand thinking it love,
Thinking you’d found the



Core to your being.
Didn’t of course. It
Hadn’t got too far.



You kissed, held hands, spoke
Words, laughed, caressed, but
Nothing more. Least ways



You didn’t want to,
Not then, not with him,
Just like that. You stare



Out at the sea now.
Earl says, what are you
Gazing at? Ain’t you



Seen the sea before?
Pearl sits quiet, deep
In thought. Maybe she



Had an adventure
Of love here, who knows.
Mrs Gillespie



Eats away and speaks
Small talk between large
Mouthfuls. You recall



The Milton boy for
His ardent attempt
At going further,



Trying to venture
Beneath your dress back
Then. Smacked his hand of



Course. He stopped, withdrew
His hand, frustrated
And sulked. Never got



His way though.  He boiled
Up inside, you guess.
Went with that Kelly



Girl not long after,
Maybe she gave way,
You don’t know. Smiled a



Far bit after that,
The Milton boy, her
On his arm, looking



At you with that look
Of his. You look back
At Earl and watch him



Eat, holding a dull
Conversation with
Mrs Gillespie



Between bites. The sea
And wind seem the same,
The gulls, the smell of



Sea and salt and a
Long lost age. Aren’t you
Going to eat? Earl



Says. Plenty here, he
Mutters. Pearl stares at
The sea. Maybe she



Had a lover once,
But lost it all, you
Muse, just like me.