THE CURRENT
The third week of September the beach
Is almost empty, but the tepid
Water foams around her ankles
Soothing as a jacuzzi. Sand
Rushes down between her toes.
Wading out, she lifts one knee
And then the other over the boiling
Suds that try to push her back
To shore until the viscous sea
Transports her on undulating wings.
She strokes out, watching the summer
Scene reel past like the window view
When the airplane taxis down the runway,
Until she discovers she is a passenger
Much too late to cancel her ticket.
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