The dark night is a blanket on my tired body
Tonight as I lay in the tall, cool grass
And reflect upon that fact that I
Did nothing all day, wasted what would have been a good morning
Sat on the beach, exposed
Let the harsh light beat down on my face
My summer skin pressed against the stiff nylon of my beach chair
The borrowed one with yellow stripes and a cigarette burn
Listless sand working its way into the creases of my towel
Sea glass glinting with dull turquoise empty promises
The smell of the ocean dampening my golden hair
The squawk of my neighbor, a seagull,
Music to my tired ears
A distraction from the chitter chatter and the nonsense
The sand laid hot on the soles of my bare feet
So accustomed to restraint
The heat was uncomfortable to the point of being enjoyable
I smell the beach, I feel the beach, I hear the beach
Thus realizing that
I am the beach
Trodden on
Sand
Rocks and pebbles so eroded they're destroyed
Worn down by years of repetitive monotony
Waves crash to shore, waves fade back
Up and down and down and out
But I smile
Read my magazine with its glossy pages and its standards
I put on shades to not only hide from others
But to hide myself
And so after dinner in the quiet of the cricket-song
I seek solace in an empty field
Spread eagle, eyes open, feeling both everything and nothing
Numbed by the purity and emboldened by the silence
The dark night is a blanket on my defeated body
The protection of my celestial quilt weighs me down but sets me free
I am who I really should be
No one is watching and no one is near
I finally let myself curl up into a little ball
In the shelter of this great big world
But with the lights turned off.