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.