the man who never ceases to preach the gospel of "the beach"
May 16, 2024
at 2 a.m I overuse metaphor to the body of a poem I attempted
brimming with recollection of ivory white sand
sticking on my sandals and my bottoms
like memories I had of the man
who couldn’t figure of all places but the beach
to prowl my left lung
to plant nausea-filled oath
the man who was barely a man
because we made the vow at sixteen
I want it back
the innocence of being veiled in salt air
without the bitter taste of a broken vow left in my mouth
my fault
but you’ve become the face I see,
overstayed, preaching gospel of the beach
