1. the ocean is a purple coloring book if you blur your eyes a little, pink seagulls glide and chat above the pier. molten lava sunset dripping in a blurry pink ocean, mother says kind things and tells me where the salty ocean wind comes from and where it goes, the wind that brushes her hair out of place, people come to stand by the railing but they never stay, sun melts my ice cream and it drools sticky on my fingers,
someone plays piano that tickles my ears and twirls in my ice cream stomach, mother stays on the bench and i stand next to him, piano air tickling my neck and playing with my hair, tickling like girls tapping on glass bottles at the beach
mother takes a photograph and im all missing teeth smiling wide with the man who plays the piano, he lets me wear his hat and i feel his piano fingers sitting on my shoulder, warm like his piano music,
i laugh because i like the piano man and his big hat that covers my eyes,
this summer is the summer of mother and i at the boardwalk, hands sticky with peach ice cream and she sits on the bench at the face of the ocean, i run laps around her and she calls me her dizzy little race car, like the red ones we saw in Monaco, she smiles at me but the ocean takes it away again,
this summer is the summer of mother and i at the boardwalk, unhappy and motionless, she's an old photograph of grandfather under an orange lamp, and i cheer her up, all white teeth laughter and race car buzzing in her ears.
2. we walk together through warm sand, my cheeks glow heat and warm red and she tells me that i can run along if I would like, so i do,
running through wet sand like a homesick ghost, i chase the water and it chases me back, splashing and yipping at my legs like an eager puppy, she meets me at exhaustion, the foam hugs and steals the mud from my toes, i wiggle them clean, mother stands behind and shows me a milky moon suspended a year away from us, the ocean foam tickles my ankles and mother tells me about how the moon pulls the foam to the shore, tidal pull, pulling her hand and wandering deeper as the water kisses my knees now, she tells me that she'll watch me from the shore, i jump when the foam comes as if it's burning magma waiting to eat me up, mother glows and grips her hands as she watches the moon,
digging through the mud, i look for a cure, mother is like a distant moon, a shiny forgotten nickel hanging faceless above the evening clouds, she watches distant at the shore, my silhouette is her favorite shape, my favorite shape is a broken flesh colored seashell that i give to her,
this summer is the summer of sitting unhappy at the shore with mother, this summer is a small orange crab that peers out,
"mom, look! there's a crab!"
and is swept under again, ripped away from the safety of the rock
"do you think he'll be okay?"
mother always says kind words in unforgiving moments but the ocean never cherishes, the ocean always takes, takes and never gives back,
this summer is the summer of ocean tides, the summer of moon watching and warm piano music on the boardwalk,
why was it over so fast?
