There was a time
back in nineteen ninety something
when her eyes danced with the sun.
Now they are dead, like others
that have seen a bigger world. Something
out there
seems to eat away the good.
Braless breasts slug under a white tee
that has been washed too often.
Her hair no longer smells of the ocean
just manufactured spring
and citrus flavours.
I watch her, thinner than
the shoreline, toeing beach.
Waves lap her feet like a parched dog.


as are you!







21 old applause
