Conversation At the Beach

by Doris C. Baker

I found myself drowned
in pink fizzy
platitudes
not worth ageing
into wine
but unexpectedly suitable
for soft summer nights
at the beach.

Do you remember
how it was
warm salt tide
in slow motion
a sand crab
crawled
into my outstretched
hand?

We went back
to the sea
ripple edge
opalescent
under the moon.

I donŐt know
what we said.

Visions