I am alone
On a thin beach
At Christmas.
The mood is summer,
The shallows
The temperature of blood.
Bodies glisten at distances,
Me on a strip of sand
Watching flesh tan
On alternate strips.
Tourists struggle
Over the rocky coast—
They dip and jerk
Like marionettes
In a school play.
The sea smells
Of weeds and salt.
Naupaka bushes
Green in the sun.
The sand moves as I move,
Shifts to accommodate.
I feel beached,
Marooned in mid-life
With Coppertone bottle,
Wet trunks and cotton towel.
Breakers pound
The wall at Black Point.
Mansions are jaded
By repeat performances.
The lava glitters with rooms.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem