A Poem by Doug Draime
–for Carol
The way everything moved, slipped
in or out of gear, as the sun
was setting and the hotel beach boys
removed the sway back canvas chairs
from the ocean’s edge. The restaurant’s
lights coming on ; a few two-men fishing boats
coming home over the horizon,
like tired old boxers in the 8th round.
Several gulls hook and glide. And the
reflection of your gray-blue eyes out
over the ocean, bouncing from sun to
water, water to sun