2.18

Waves

I yearn for the surf.
Where are you?
I wish for nothing
more
than to swim, carelessly,
surrounded.

I find you.
There you are,
wild and energetic,
much too deep, much too intense.
Perfect.

I dive in,
feeling those chilling arms around me.
I feel refreshed, free.
I am safe.

................................

The Professor

his long hands cradled his face

grey, weary, full of wisdom.

his brow furrowed

like ripples on a pond.

and his eyes,

though desperate and exhausted,

glistened in the sunlight.

the physical baggage

that he had stored below

those spectacular eyes

spoke to his audience.

he unpacked them,

for educational purposes of course,

and shared his stories.

one by one.

away he wandered.

from his sanctuary,

his family.

so sad, alone.

but those eyes never faltered.

they continued to breathe,

to tell his story.

the wisdom, 

immeasurable.

................................

[untitled]

I seem to find 

my biggest inspiration in

the ocean.

Perhaps it is

the tide. Or the wind.

Or the glare.

The glare is especially bright off the surface.

I wish I had sunglasses…

No, I can handle the glare on my own.

The fencepost next to me

has two legs and is smoking

a cigarette.

The smoke dances with the breeze,

occasionally switching partners and

dancing with the boats instead.

I wish this breeze wasn’t

clouded with nicotine.

So many people

walk alone,

sit alone,

read alone,

attempt suicide alone,

write alone.

I wish I wasn’t alone.

I think I would like my sunglasses now.