rearing noon from the morning's infancy,
so to you were to get me so we can for a few hours say sup,
tripping, buzz feed as we catch up.
running through my bones, lifting my mind to lofty places,
where thoughts still come but wisp away again,
like whatever i exhaled with my head out of your window,
and as we parked, lonely car, no people,
'cause sky was blowing and our worlds we were dreaming,
but sharing a simple order,
called time to set up this tent, stake 'er down,
to wander beachside and look at relics we've found,
wet feet, retire for packed lunch,
munch and let the brain go dumb for a bit,
zone out, then barefoot run.
Yes, a day of beach fun.
Feed the seagulls, the damn bastards always stay away,
make mud and face paint, the feel the moisture leave as the paste drys,
Look at the sky and shy from thunder,
only to go for a dip before the sky breaks,
and wave crests blown in wind,
I remembered what i forgot, that
that everything i ever did to you could in a moment be lost,
And the trust be broken, but still the day was stoked,
And i for it. For the wind and the cold, chilly water,
for getting caught in the rain,
car doors then slamming, misty over-water clouds rolling,
and all of this with only a few hours from this the everyday stolen.
It will be one of your favorites.
But to me, it is just a day,
a lived, breathed, gritty and hands on passage,
lit by playing music in a tree, or here on blanket.
It was a good beach day.