Does everyone, sitting on the seashore, 
imagine the horizon tilt toward them,
the ocean rising out of its pit
sheer in an upward, skyward lift
a solid block of water, a wall, really
traveling at 80 mph, coming toward them
bringing the roil of wind and sand
the seabirds spiraling along above it
the kelp tumbling along the low shelf
the fish surprised at how high the swell
has lifted them in its traveling
in its water stacked and higher until it
threatens to cover not just the shoreline but
the line of houses beyond the shore and
the town beyond the houses and 
the highway beyond the town and 
the old abandoned gas station and 
the motor lodge and 
the peach stand beyond that
or is it just me?