a noisy street
lamp invades her
private property
she has none
who owns the sand
she lets slip
between her toes
must own
the shells
he collects
in a shoe box
where she used to store
those letters

her memory
is too much
with her
another power
given to the rip current
his, shards
of sea glass gems
in amber ruby cobalt
blue aurora borealis
rose swooning
above the horizon

an offing
that can’t be reached
where the road runs
under then beside itself
to spill over the pier

she’s done it before
who says they can’t touch
those lines as they vanish
doesn’t know
what it means
to be a wave