i don’t know.

muddled cloudy skies hiding the manhattan skyline. worn rainbows hazardly hopping. taco and ganja and combustion and perfume. te amo.

you, right behind me, my pinhole.

as we come in we walk past the meow meow bombardment and one, two, three

something like smooth sand, jutting rocks, overflowing foam and blue blue blue — crash repeat oceangoing moment, holy scrapbook — is this my moment?

you aren’t the first human being i met but no one else has gazed at my ocean

they saw the muddled clouds, the hazardous hops, and adverted.
so uh, thanks for that.

thanksgiving on the beach. hand holding and zen. and — an owl and a mouse making history, sharing cornbread and cranberries, sand in our teeth, but what a view.

we don’t know.