Over The Sea

Water dripping off the gutters
makes a random rhythm that amplifies
their thoughts. They hold the cold
cans in their bare hands so tightly
they are numb enough to vanish.
Mud coating their shoes, walking paths
on cloudy days, when the rain only falls
at night. The tracks left by the dogs
are like small oceans.
Waveless and disgustingly full of dirt
instead of salt. Lightning splits the sky,
but can’t destroy it. It always holds Itself
together in spite of the static.
Birds rode the air in tight patterns like
they were only one thing, and not just pairs
of wings without shelter.
A halo of storm around the purest beam of
sun washes over everyone, until it fades out
in the distance, over the sea.