A Dozen Octobers In Montauk

Fishing rods and reels, and bicycle wheels, gentle thousand yard stare, daisies in the dunes, measured afternoons all without a damn care. Bake shop coffee and wet shore like toffee, Hampton Star in my lap, on the beach sipping, salty wind nipping at thoughts of that day’s nap. Sand like gold powder, piping clam chowder, oyster cracker crumbs, shy deer in the brush, blue waves fall and crush, stoops alive with red mums. Old high school pals, now of different locales, drink plastic cups of beer. Baseball and whiskey, nights thick and misty, for our time once a year. Inky skies full of stars, when we leave the bars, silver on the black sea. I look at the moon, an ancient white rune, who makes memories with me.