Poetry
Le Mardi Gras
We trip into our favorite bar
The summer night clinging
Exacting a sea change from the humid air
For the coolness humming inside
The Jazz Age booths curve around us
Your hands pool on the heavy oak table top
Trickling coyly out of my grasp
Never letting me catch you
Alone
The end of the night finds me
Still anonymous and unschooled
Etching my message to you
On a chalkboard in a bathroom stall
My love is all limerick and bawdy rhyme
While yours is poetry
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Second Beach It starts with the ocean Waves pulsing out Their rhythmic catharsis A relentless bombination My cries well up like keening gulls in my throat Until you remind me That we are two pebbles in time’s pocket We are the only ones who know Underneath the pounding surf lies another world An ancient whispering The machinations of the stones
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We splash through tide pools, salt-stung and hopeful Chasing the causeway before it sinks below the turquoise depths The Brough reveals itself as we climb from the shoals Guided by a labyrinth Of Pictish stones and Vikings' shadows But we seek illumination When we reach the cliff beyond the lighthouse I turn to grasp your hand Sunlight peals across the distant hills Filtered by the singing wind To echo your glorious laughter
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