it's a small
beach
house we settle into for
the long weekend.
it's not
quite spring, but winter
is lessening
its grip.
we have a window, a wide
picture
window where
we can see
the ocean,
sunlit,
and the struggle of sailboats
as they plow
across the curve of the blue
earth.
even seagulls
are tossed about in this
wind.
we came here to get away
from things,
our thoughts and problems,
our disagreements,
but we've brought them with
us, i realize
as i see her
out on weathered
deck,
talking softly into her phone,
biting
her lower lip
and crying.
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