The Waves Broke Like Concrete

The Waves Broke Like Concrete

The ocean waves broke like concrete on the
boarders in the sand who
dug in for the ride;
a modest place to rent.

Never wanting to hide, but a helmet would be nice
to protect the hard-shell thoughts that pinged like
billiard balls through the felt and slate mind. It
was high tide again
and the swim to safety
was beyond the reach of tenants
who had no claim to stake.

Was there a suction that would hold them in place,
a tentacle strong enough to grab a neighbor who
also could not swim
and stick it out long enough to
watch the sea back away again?

Is this the way families are made,
the way babies survive?
Is this the advent or the resurrection,
is this the tick tock at the art gallery,
have we run out of time?

Fascinating rhythm, strange syncopation,
days and nights,
weeks and months,
high tide, low tide,
neap tide and rip tide.

One look at the moon or sun
has a way of explaining everything.