15.01.21Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â
                          It’s 1987.
        She’s smiling at the waves cascading,
       looking out at a world that didn’t exist.
In the emollient, rosemary morn’s glow               Â
            pregnant with prickly pear scents
          a cherry-pickled dress crashed into the foam
      and up bobbed a nest of blonde.
             Kissed by the wind; nourished by the sea,
                  I watched my sweetheart flee.
might delete later.