Days.

The horizon flashes in strobe.

Digging our feet into the sand, they disappear.

The breathy kiss of Tuesday

Bleeds into Wednesday.

Tumbling:

Stairsteps and inertia.

The x-ed out calendar squares inching forward

Like a worm,

Like a tortoise

Slow, steady,

Eventually winning the race.

The undertow drinks you in,

Loving the way the salt affects your chemistry.

There’s nothing human in the waves.

A barrage of glittering, summer waves.

Again and again, they’re relentless

Insistent.

Always mechanical in their abscondence

No matter how manic the embrace.