a pound of sand
from the beach.
it's not Miami sand,
white and bleached,
but North Atlantic sand,
dirty and brown
off the cold rough coast.
it pours from my pockets
and shoes,
my ears.
it's in between my toes.
i'm chewing on the same
piece of salt water
taffy that i put in my mouth
three hours ago.
there's seaweed
in my bathing suit.
small bits of shells and fish
bones. there are
remnants of
pizza and French fries
stuck to my
clothes.
but i have a magnet
to put
on the fridge.
so all is not lost.
a shiny square,
that i bought half price
at seasons end.
one of Sidney Sweeny
in a seaside pose.
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