Clap Before You Leave

Moving on from downtown,/to an unpatrolled beach/ first sight of you, on a bench,/I had kicked over a cola on the bus/I felt like screaming/ no one liked the wetness./I can’t appreciate more than cool water/ in waves over clusters of litter/your nimble hands; grey skies without escape/ the mud reach past the rocks/where you should clap your hands/to surmount the end game./The wind obeys you, a thousand times over;/how many times did we tread this beach/crying about this human weight we carry. /I took off my jacket,/threw the housekeys, weighing it down,/I play with dead leaves surrounding me./I buy all the tackle ,the kid had for sale/lures and hooks, some obsolete/orange rubber fins imbedded /in a pike’s mouth/(to have and to hold)./The whole contraption sinks beneath my knees/radio tunes zigzag, pester me;/then I drop what I’m doing,/no one can ever disparage you/as you clap for me , before you leave.

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