The sky is the palest blue
and nearly cloudless
except for a few white puffs
that lazily drift away,
away,
away over the sea.
Sun on my face
is warm,
as is the wind that blows
through my hair.
Out of control,
it flies around my face,
the split ends stinging
when they get in my eyes.
The salt water stings, too,
and burns,
and leaves its acrid taste in my mouth
and nose.
Still,
I prefer the ocean,
with its icy, swirling depths and
dark things that lurk
just below the surface
(waiting for some unfortunate
to stray too far -
too far -
too far out)
to the golden sand
that shines in the oppressive sun
and burns my feet.