Rockaway

Hot sand burned my feet as I walked to the sea.

Burying the pole of the umbrella

I sat under its shadow

elongating.

People cooled in the waters

becoming shadow form.

Pushed by golden waves

they moved volitionless,

oblivious to the sun.

There is nothing going on here—

and yet, I am here.

Like a prayer

carried on the wind,

flags flutter.