long run by the ocean

I don’t want to say
that the ocean is alive.
It has an unstoppable rhythm
pulling at my heels-
I remember thinking
I match the rolling currents
falling in and tugging out and
slipping away again
and falling in and thinking
it does not call me,
does not drown me
or make me remember
anything, actually
it is kind of a nuisance
to stare blankly at the sea.
No change,
no color, no song. It
is as brutal as
biting wind, which I
cannot see.
But I breathe with
salty nostrils a vertigo
so common I had forgotten
to thank for my balance
and bring,
heel after heel
around the sea wall.


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