the beach, the wind
the beach, the wind
and I’m hunched over
trying to wipe a grain
from my eye
weeping, weeping
its own good sense
to wash out the offender
can’t see, too bright
the sun
a misery speck
its very own kind
grain now granule
now pebble
as stinging grows
windbreaker pulled high
against the stiff wind
I stumble to the car
spill my pack, sifting
its contents
palm the small bottle
solace and soothe
to flush out the sand




Ooooo... "a misery speck..." So good I'd pay for that!