blurry things

chill in the air warms mornings night (3AM)
as near strangers take me away with whispers

should we quiet down
for The sea speaks
in fluid motion

and he and he and me beneath a blue black curtain deserted
not much to say when we speak We are little
we think we know things
we are never right
we are memories

so it seems
early or too late
and everything is an experiment

say more when the sun is down
to sail or romanticize the sea
he would, he says, he will
we are barely listening but we pretend

to touch a sky a word a footstep (we can, we have been drinking)
and we are specks

sand swallows our feet
stuck we never wanted to leave
stuck there is nothing better anyway
it isn't quicksand and daylight changes everything

in a photograph
cheapens the ocean with
beginning and end

wasting time in a picture frame
on something we can't duplicate

so we decide on silence
and leave before the moon
in darkness there is clarity