a Bee in the Sand 🎧

Collecting moments
from a snippet
or a slow scene,
as if they were rocks
I could turn over in my hand
and spot their individuality
the way the light catches on one
or the coarse texture of another.

I want to look at them all at once
and line them up, just to say:
This?
This one is my favorite.
Only to change my mind the next day.

Like a big, smiling Yellow Labrador
in the backseat of a car,
panting in the wind.

Early morning croissants on the beach
with Sam,
watching pelicans dive into the gulf .

The first time I saw three wiggling dots,
and my wiggling heart, walking on air to a coffee shop
intentionally delaying my downfall.

Scratching his soft hair, casually and lazily,
and how it turns into unexpected foreplay,
while the Summer Olympics play in the background.

A line I wish I wrote.

I remember a bee in the sand
when we held those croissants.
We sat without a blanket,
and for a second I was stupidly afraid
until I relaxed and let it stay close.

It burrowed itself,
happily, I hope.
And I thought how funny it is
to burrow oneself in anything,
but how tempting it is
to get lost.

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