Seawall

The walk is long, the seawall waltzing with the sea, our friends stopping, falling away, thinner ones showing up, the sunset glaring through their paper faces.

The water is high tonight even though someone is eating the moon. The sea throws things up on the wall, part of a small but pressing plan. We walk this line between the musk salt spray and the exhausted black berries all ready to give up, careening, sultry, thick and lewd with breath.

There’s a point up ahead in the darkening and further walks to walk, but maybe we’ll just sit here a while watching the strangers and their strange walks walking by.