The murmuring waves lap
At the shore rhythmically,
The ocean’s gentle tick-tocking
Reminding us that time exists.
The cool night air blows lightly
And I see your long hair shift in the wind,
Your eyes glistening faintly
In the moon’s light.
There is a commotion on the horizon,
A cluster of jittery lights
And the distant whoops and cheers
Of too many margaritas and cheap beers.
I resent this pervasive presence
And lead you away selfishly.
The strong salt guides us
To the ancient dimly-lit boardwalk.
The old boards of the pier groan,
Protesting our intrusive stroll.
Old Mexican fishermen eye us warily,
Their long poles like wisps of hair
Muttering Gringos under their breaths.
Your hand holds tightly on to mine,
Fingers curled, gripping.
You shiver slightly and sniff the sky,
The moist air nipping at your ears and nose.
Your lips quiver and I want to kiss them,
But I don’t..
The moment is soft, tentative,
An eager squirrel shyly hopping to an outstretched finger.
We walk on, the damp sand, like cold wet socks,
Wrapping around our bare feet.
I wish for a generous concession, an extension
Of this moment, of whispered I love you’s.
The word fleet floats through my mind
And I know that soon there will be
An impossibly large mass separating us,
I cling to the moment desperately
But reality resumes regardless, and you are gone.