Written many years ago before its posted date, this was a struggle for me because I had written very little free verse at that time.
Examine your surroundings, most importantly their hue, for I recall a day when setting sun hung in the fire of a neon sky and blazed an orange red. What imperceptible thread held it there above our heads like a paradigm of passion suspended for all time! Even now, years later, I draw that moment out and bask in it again. . . and over again. Also I remember how that serpent came from nowhere and slithered terra cotta in the sand around our feet. I believe he was exponential (in a Biblical sense) of what we soon would lose - our innocence - as afternoon slipped into an iridescent dusk. The colors of that dusk bursting and sizzling like our steamy summer love, primarily in nuances of lust, flowed scarlet over us in the color of a crimson which was cardinal as sin. Then to the screams of gulls and to the crash of waves, I writhed beneath a surge of heat and his face. . . that glowed with desire. Only at the beach was I ever to know such splendor. . . there with my first love and there with the sun, where it burned out.
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