pacific

My friends and I are

kicking sand and

splashing around in tide pools.

Those small puddles, simulations

of the real thing 50 yards behind us.

.

We turn together, in a moment

blinded by the sun, squinting to see

the waves of deep, foamy teal.

And we stagger across the hot sand,

young feet aching for the chilly surf,

the tide drifting lazily in and out of reach.

.

Now I’m alone on this beach

and everything I didn’t say

becomes this silent mile between

land and sea.

.

I hear you laugh, I see you smile

and I’m goddamn jealous of—

What, exactly? It’s so easy to remember

this moment but forget the following years.

.

The retreating surf tugs at my feet,

remnants of some great wave I couldn’t see,

yet existed all the same.