Alex by the Edge of the Sea

He clanked his wrench down and drove to the sea.

On Facetime he said he needed to get away,

His boyish face in side view, staring at the water,

Calling Dad from the beach.

All the dreams, I can’t tell what’s real,

I don’t know what the words mean,

I need to find my place,

I don’t want to leave but I can’t stay.

Maybe this can be my place,

Look at the water,

Just water and sky,

I’d like to live right here, Dad,

I mean right here, by the water.

The phone view jarred,

He slogged in the sand toward the water line,

Then into waves, stumbling, phone gone,

Looking out to sea,

Then standing, then falling,

Head and hair mixing with the surf,

Swells cresting into waves,

And crashing on shore,

Cresting and crashing,

Cresting and crashing.

The shoreline is so clean,

Not a thing can stay right there,

In the masticating waves,

Just susurration and sea smells,

Cells to sand and bones to salt,

And a scoured shore again.