The tattooist’s lines
Soften
Turn to blue
                          Faiths have
An anchor
And forget me knot
                          Marks time
Within a beachfront kiosk
                               Mattress in rear
Note on shutters
                         Saying  
                         Back in 15 minutes

Older than her waist size
Younger than the priced
Sunday Sport tabloid
Talking of *******
And WW2 bomber on the moon
                          That she’d folded
       As though sleeves rolled up

Her name imprinted
Each stick of rock
                       On the seafront
When anyone talked of Faith
                              Pink words
                                    Always turned blue

wet sand squelches between my toes
hot rays of sunshine beat against my skin
waves ripples in the lake
ice cream drips from the cone onto my hand
tank tops and shorts and swimsuits
sweet lemonade as the ice cubes clink in the glass
school's out and relaxing's in
walking through the cool forest
a relief from the sweltering sun
diving into the pool
and splashing your friends
refreshing breeze as the sun sets

Is it a person or a place,
A thing whose soul I can never know?
A warrior howls with the wind
in the trackless wild.
Or a peerie lad running through sand
on St. Ninian's ayre?
A maid swimming
in an unreachable isle
or the luffing of sails
in the harbour at night.
An expanse of heath
with a bird above.
A person or place
That I'll always love

My dad’s been taking pills
I’m not sure how to feel

About the strange itch
At the back of my
Throat

The horrid *****
In the corner of my
Eyes

The dull ache
In my rising
Chest

His arms around me
His love surrounds me
Like the cold water brushing against my
Neck

Amidst the blue abyss
Of nothingness
The sunlight burns the back of
Eyelids

Still, they refuse to open
I am nearly asleep
His are facing the black sand

Look at me
I’m everything you’ve never wanted
I’m everything you’ve wanted to be

The beach spray there was downright heavenly.
Then salty tears streamed down my bright red face.
Was my face red from crying or a growing sunburn?
I asked this question as I slowly came to in a hospital.
The IV in my arm dripped clear liquid into my veins.
I’m sorry that my solutions are always so very saline.

If you'll come with me,
I can bring you to the sea,
Show you the waves as they dance to the sand,
Wander through the dunes,
Winding like the winds in beach birch branches,
We can live like they do on TV,
Swear our hearts to each other,
Like I got down on my one knee.

Ah - ick coats the tongue.
Agh, let me just lick this up.
Gotta get it off.