I-5 at Midnight

Three miles into San Clemente, the air is salted,

drinkably humid.

Dropping 10mph without a thought,

my rental is a boat cast off in a Pirate ride.

Slowly afloat, pointing out fireflies.

Oceanside’s Late May

The sand was sultry,

baring a shoulder to summer,

spring wrapped loosely ’round, in a grip soon unheld;

but even here,

with temperate souls and tender voices cracking open,

the ocean still had April in its bones.

Las Flores View – On the El Camino Real

The coast of California crests at San Clemente,

with sagebrush and coconut,

windgusts and gulls,

and bends the sun off tilted land

like opening a briefcase full of gold.

Central Beach, Quonochauntaug, RI

The Atlantic rolls you like a sea salt bath.

Barely a wave

just an oceanic hiccup

of waters coming in from other shores

and telling you what a wonderful day they’ve had.

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