Sand in my toe"s

He's got silver in his head. Lines around his smile. Time's been talking

loud, but he don't mind. City shoes by the door.

Ocean in his head. Every night he drifts back there instead.

He remembers how the shoreline used to feel. Every grain like it was teaching

him what's real. I miss the sand between my toes, the way the

tide would come and go. But I lose my breath every time she

knows. There's magic in the things she sees. They walk barefoot

where the waves go quiet, moons hanging low, like it's listening. She laughs and