Heat Complaint
I am really in need of a beach day.
There is nothing more
on this earth for me to say
no idea of how to float on the surface
of hot top, gravel or even the boards of my porch.
I need the beach, its grace.
I could swim out too far
catch a glimpse of how the mermaid feels
not to own a clock or a car.
Thinking too much
on a hot day makes me want to fall
into the ocean. Wet, wild, and such.
Are you hot too?
— not in that sexy way you show me
when daylight is through.
Can we decide (when we have died) to sprinkle
ourselves out far, out there in the sea,
let our sand trickle
like ash? oh wait — be ash —
burnt up bone and muscle we won't need,
hair and teeth we won't ever brush.
I am really in need of a beach day
really in need of getting
away.
