Our halter tops reveal breasts
peeking after a drawn out winter
A hundred degrees incites groans
in spite of the earlier drought of sunlight
You move past me, ducking back
to touch, even with the stickiness
Our tuna salad at the campsite
reminds us of Cape Cod lobster
We ran on the burning sand there
romping in the giant waves
laughing, at times bobbing out of sight
That freezing cold Atlantic embedded
in our skin lingers now in the Pacific
It’s different here. We’re the only ones
Lots of room just to dip
People rarely venture out
Too many warnings of undertow
Last week I wanted to drown
This fireside changed my mind