each day i wake
with a black sand in my teeth
although i've never seen an ocean.

i dream of green seas enameled in spilled salt
the ellipses that punctuate your thoughts
the discrepancies in my ecstasies
or else our bad luck

what storm comes this far off?
what is there to do but row
to some continent you've never known -
for some shore to kiss long after your lips?

each morning i spit sand in the sink and brush my teeth
but the taste stays with me.
Last edited by NGD1313 at Aug 18, 2013,