waves rise like goosebumps,
fall soft as footsteps on damp sand.
The brown skin of the beach glistens
with the lines sung by
the surf's rolling tongue.
I imagine you curling your hair
or changing the Band-Aid on your finger.
Choosing between black heeled boots
or suede, wool lined slippers.
An expression descends your face
swift as Vietnamese swallows winging
through a name, startling as
the backwards knees of a Flamingo.
Tonight, you might follow
a string of numbers to this table.
Then wrinkle your nose above a smile
that curves like a bowling ball
down a shiny lane, before striking
all ten of my heart's wobbly pins.