Hanque O . . .

Water slapping my ankles,
each wave taking me down
a bit, just a bit. I'm watching
the sun, no, I'm thinking,
no, I'm standing in the Pacific
neither watching nor thinking.
I am existing. Meanwhile,
my feet are slowly going numb.
The sound of surf is hypnotic,
so I take it. I look soulful,
I realize that, and I am wishing
I were twenty again, with a
dark-haired girl by my side,
pretending to share the vision.
Like, that's gonna happen.