(untitled)

I took the bus to the beach

on a Wednesday night

in the winter

I stayed in an empty house

and still heard

old conversations

The wind blew

through the skin trees

worn with the cold

The picture window was black

but I was picturized

for Bill next door

that night was fitfull

full of misplaced

meaning

Thinking on centuries

of single days

Filling like quick

water

the next morning

I walked on the beach

and collected

white, wide shells to save

and held them against

my belly

I watched the sand ripple

and change

with rivulets of winter sea

and in front of me

suddenly

was a gray seal

I breathed in

and stood still

an old friend

in the kelp

and frozen foam

defined

creatures both of us

alone and real

for a moment myth

fills us

and vanishes

him into the waves

and me into the wind

and wet grit