Let this be the last vision I see
boardwalk sand lake
bathing suits too tight
too droopy.
Stillness of sand, though at places
bumpy; the search for the right
spot. Blankets, chairs tucked
under bags of food and languages
foreign; they all say: the sand is hot,
the water is cold; I'll take this, you
take that.
Sunscreen and sunhat
no wonder I can't sleep
I get so anxious
to get right back
here to
this
spot.
God made beaches so he can reach us.
If you don't see God's work here,
you'll need more than suntan lotion
for protection from this projection
of
perfection.