ears open
the waves sang gossip
a crowd of people
a train station
bustling quietly at
4 in the morning

so much to do
the scent of ocean
a distraction from
your hair in my hands
your hair in my hands

the ocean pulls
at my thighs
its rush hour thick
reminder, reminder, reminder
water,
I wanted to drink from this cup

I can tell the surf
what remains veiled
what I cannot utter
for some reason
for some reason

so much to do
and inconveniently
a new found sense
of responsibility
by the grey-green light
that I left sleeping

© Tom Watters  11/19/06