The sound of waves crashing against the pier is strong in my memory,
Although I am sure the tide was out.
Perhaps it was the alcohol reeling inside my head
Seeping into my memory and pandering to the
Sentimentalist in me.
We lay there until dawn, determined not to leave
Until the cold set in.
The cloudless sky was a perfect canvas for the airplanes
And we made plans to be in one of them together someday,
The kinds of plans that never make it past the haze of wine.
We allowed ourselves the novelty of honesty,
Unaware of the sobriety of daybreak,
Confessing things we wouldn’t dare say
Over the breakfast table, if we ever got the chance
To share one.
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