beach sand is not like other sand.
It's romantic sand. It gets in
everywhere and sticks and clings
wet - to dry into so many tiny
souvenirs of sunshine and salt.
Sentimental value to fall off
in showers, when you next pick up
those Chucks, that towel. You must
shower off yourself, too now. But
not too soon. Let the sea curls
of your hair cascade and crash,
let the grains of beach sand
on your skin
stick and cling
'til after we're done
remembering. Then wash it all
away, down the drain, beat it
all out the door, let floors
be swept clear - but let trunk
of car congeal in gray patch
too worked into carpet fur
every time you lift the hatch.
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