Lincoln City, 1989
In the bright sun,
I drink bottled water
while watching the sea
sand fleas
like tiny agile rocks
salt rime like threads—
tide stitches sand
What I wrote in the sand
is no less true for being erased
Do not think I have forgotten—
the sea we would have watched together
a cold reminder on my cheeks
To know the storm will end
does not stop the boat from filling
© 1989 Kij Johnson