Night Drive When We Danced On The Beach of Lake Ontario
We rinsed our cigarettes then lit new ones
When we reached the sand. It was October
And the wind swirled around us. We heard
The waves hurtling against the dark rocks.
There is something mystical about the beach
In autumn. Like something is slanted or skewed—
An emptiness. The lake ignores us. It moves
Silently across the vault of the earth like a spy.
The water is black. Our McDonalds
In your car turning cold. I think in the sky
There is God—moon shivering from her perch
Like a blackbird. The choir of waves
Telephone our desire. Inside their noise
I hear our childhood; summer, regret.
We glimpse the phantom of the woman
Who died searching for her daughter.
I will someday die searching for this.