on the beach on this perfect summer evening
I’ve laid out a Mexican blanket woven with turquoise and ochre
and a fine spread of wild sockeye with tarragon
parmesan rolls and French organic wine
glass goblets from home and snap peas
picked fresh from my pesticide-free garden
but you two barely notice, mumble solemn
sour notes from the hymnal of marital discord
the wind plays with our hats and our hair
dogs scamper, digging arcs of sand
the sea undulates whale grey full of grace
a waning moon tugs the sun down for sinking
into night’s embrace and cool cerulean
but all the while your feet are stuck in cement
wiggling against boredom and torment
poster children for a life of solitude
and a waste of my good peas
Shellie Troy Anderson 