Sugar Sand

Feet planted in sugar sand.

In darkness, long locks of brown curls hide your face.

A toast to the crying whales.

A gunshot smothered by breaking waves.

Why are you sitting like that?

Oh, I see.

I was only gone for five minutes.

You are not coming back from that.

They harvested you from the beach that morning.

By noon, it was as if you never existed at all.

Children play and parents tan where you poured yourself out.

I should have introduced myself.

Could I have helped, or would you have poured me out with you?