Childhood Waves

I stand on the sand bank.

Wet grit fills in

the spaces between toes,

while waves push against

my knees having lost

the cold momentum

they once had.

The shore is far off today.

It lingers in the hazy reds and

blues and yellows of

the far away heat.

Upright ants throw footballs

Which distort as they push

Languidly through the thick air.

I watch from the safety of this

Second line of shallow water.

Apart from them yet

connected in experience.

The waves drift past me

gain speed and break again

Into roaring green tigers.

I am safe here, now,

Though it won’t last; Never

Lasts. The salt finally cuts

Like rust through my skin

And the white-gold sun caresses

Violet skin that will peel

Tomorrow, under Aloe green.