by atara rainer
When we went to Venice Beach in June, You ignored all the noisy people, You ignored all the brightly colored shops, You ignored all the peculiar spectacles, And headed for the ocean.
We sat down together in silence, As you stared out across the horizon, Without a hint of emotion.
"You know that people are like sand?" "I guess." "They slip right through your fingers, Or if you're unfortunate enough, They'll get everywhere and make a mess." I laughed.
You expression turned melancholic. "I'm afraid of slipping." I didn't know what to say. "You won't." You shook your head.
"This is why I never make promises." Oh.