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The emotional equinox when the saunter
on the seaside promenade
is insubstantial
a solitary merganser unabashedly scuds
where it feels like
scudding
its moments self-arranged under a sun
that is merely shine
colander-coppery
in the interstices apart
from a surfeit
of life.
The reposeful only obtaining of rent
irresponsibility of seeing
just tourists
towards the admired rose bush's
gray-lavender pallor and
china-cup lip
belonging to pangless memorabilia
in the uneasy convection
of detached days
when the sea is up and leaving the sea
and the sun with its head
in the stars
precipitates a sprinkling of hazel
from its guarded holiday
haze.
The transmitted smile doesn't sink in
and delayed at gawking gait
is returned
a lost smile to wasn't that
someone one intended
to love?
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