Tagged: water


I can’t hold your weight all on my own
you’re like the sand
you’re like water

and I won’t let your heaviness drag us both

I cupped my fingertips but like a sieve
you found the cracks
and slipped between
and cleverly you fell away

Where you pooled the trench was deep
when the tide came it knocked me off my feet
and so I had no choice I let myself be swept astray

If you come back with the waves
from the deepest places where the currents hide
I’ll let the water salt the earth
but I’ll stay far afield so that we don’t collide

I’ll fly above and greet the sun
for where the ocean ends another day sings
and I won’t let you pull me down
I won’t let you clip my wings

I couldn’t hold your weight all on my own
you drift away
you drift away

The beach.

Oh internet. How I’ve missed you and your fickle nature. Missed you so much, in fact, im doing exactly what I told you I didn’t want to do- I’m writing this from the beach, book waylaid, beer in hand. Of course, by the time y’all read this I’ll have been back in dreary, cold, wherever I live for a few days, but thus is the power of time travel.

I’m starting to convince myself I could happily move here for a month or two. Not forever, just long enough to bury my toes in the sand and forget about the real world for a while. Mammia Mia and I ate at our favorite little Italian place the other day, Il Bacaro, and watched people drift in and out of their adorable little apartment complex with their dogs. It was lovely. And the fact that the all-male staff were very accommodating with the bread and the wine certainly helped. Sidenote – what is it about Italian restarants and their men and their big doe eyes that gets me everytime? I just want to sit in the window with a glass of red wine and a bowl of homemade pasta and an Italian man. That’s all I want out of life. Well, and maybe something chocolate for dessert. And a puppy. And a million dollars.

This sucks.

This sucks.

Anyways. Me. Beach. The humid air. The softly lapping waves. The cold beer. Its all very Hemmingway. My ex-boyfriend Dali (speaking of Italians) would be proud. It was his birthday just the other day, by the by. Many happy returns.

If I could wax romantic for a moment (which is something I very rarely deign to do) let me just say how much I love the ocean. I read a line in Lev Grossman’s The Magicians just the other day, which of course I can no longer find, but it was something about the comforting stability of a place with water. But like, better. You get it.