Meaningless Marshlands to You
That long road that combats the marsh and muddy land
Reminds natives that this is simplicity.
Going 55 I look over and see your forever face,
Feeling the breeze wrap around us.
Flat land is the safest place to fall in love.
Being at sea level makes the horizon look endless.
You don’t have that far to fall.
We found that crumbly green snapper scraping across the asphalt.
Stopping just you could capture it,
And then bring it to bed.
The sun was warm enough to burn skin
But not yet persistent enough to to bring the seagrass back to life.
A brown pile of mammoth hair being lapped at by brackish water.
The wind swept over the Chesapeake to meet him and I
Between the swamp and the sand dunes.
Where the pines meet the mud.
Your crooked toes were preserved by the ice water
And your blue eyes,
The brightest things in early spring.
Hands tight together tip-toeing through the shallow ponds.
I watched you brave the unknown for me.
Hesitation but fascination.
We sat at the edge of the lagoon,
An entire ocean behind us,
Throwing sticks and piles of seaweed and also my very being.
Simple hits turned into something painful.
You never want to tell someone you love to stop having fun.
As we walked along the shoreline you never held my hand.
More than friends, but less than in love.
Stuck in a stagnant pool of saltwater and being too comfortable.
I feared the day that you would realize what’s best for you.