having a late breakfast,
when
it struck
me
that we hadn't been to the beach
this year.
she asked
me if i wanted
another pancake,
and i said yes.
more bacon too.
should we go to the beach
this weekend,
i asked her.
why,
she said,
handing me the syrup
and butter.
i don't like the beach.
it's dirty,
it's crowded
and the water looks like
pea soup.
plus it's hot and the wind
never stops
blowing.
oh,
i thought you enjoyed
the beach. i have
pictures of you
under an umbrella
in front of the ocean,
you looked happy
in your little
yellow
sundress
and sunglasses.
i was pretending.
i've done that a lot
in my life, but not anymore.
one pancake,
or two?
two, please.
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