CURLED FIST HITS THE BEACH

An ocean sinks its crests into the satin beach
Like a pestle grinding salt into lemon peel and thyme.
A hungry vessel trailing ribbons of steam
Burns, somewhere farther out.
I can watch the stars here; I don’t have to say a word.
I will just bend like a fist’s fingers.
I can taste the clouds here; I don’t have to sing a sound.
I will just lay my ear to the water.
You can’t be like a planet; you can’t rely on gravity,
An unseen force guiding your orbit.
But I will be your Atlas; I will be your maps.
Maybe you and I can watch the meteors here; we don’t have to speak a word.
We’ll just melt like a sunset.
Maybe you and I can taste the mountain tops here; we don’t have to sing a sound.
We’ll just read the notes.
I could stay clipped.
My real name is Nude.
I put on a dinosaur helmet and you punched my cheek anyway.
I could gay dance wrist clap and spit seeds at you all day
On the black street.
And you'd cough at the pavement
"You're stupid and impossible"
I could sing through a harmonica in a little girl's voice and scream between breaths
On the T.V. screen
and you'd smile like a sundial
"You're just like your mom"
I'd sit on the black street blinking in the rain
I'd sit on the white sidewalk coughing in the wind.