Coasting

When we’re together, I’m trailing in the surf,

my eyes picking away where the waves pull in

and out, following the hollows left by your feet –

 

always a minute or two behind, trying to find

something half-buried and dragged in to my toes,

a memory to wash off, pocket, and bring back home.

 

Perhaps I call, my voice fighting with the wind,

but you’re eager for the dunes, you’ve seen something

disappearing up ahead. Away you go, inland, inland.

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About Benjamin Norris

Published writer of short stories, long stories, poems. Well received art critic and cultural commentator for Berlin magazines. Collaborator with operatic societies. Co-writer of fictional historic psycholinguistic journals. Lecturer of architecture and art history at a Budapest University. View all posts by Benjamin Norris

5 responses to “Coasting

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