We share the sea.
I stood on my shore and looked across the bay to Beverly.
The sea is a lot to share
But since you no longer care
We can do it easily.
I’ll take the waves, and the seaweed bobbing,
The various land items which the sea is robbing,
And the seagulls that fly from shore to shore;
These are mine, and since you no longer care,
I might take more:
Things richer, and more rare.
The kayaks in the shallows
Will belong to me, and things
Valuable, which do not float: bracelets and rings.
And since you no longer care,
Candy wrappers from the jazz fair,
And the jazz notes
Over the water. The sail boats.
And smaller items we might not see.
You no longer care. So these belong to me:
The glitter in the water from the sun,
The sighs from lovers. Shouts by the sea from anyone,
Who are my friends now, since you no longer care.
Girls in bathing suits with long hair.
Am I taking too much? You don’t argue. You don’t dare.
I’ll take the children splashing near the shore.
And the ocean near your house—since you don’t love me anymore.
