They are pepper pitted with raindrops in the sands,
and they remind me you’ve been gone for nearly three
years, off somewhere I don’t know, and I haven’t a chance
at bringing you to my side. You call me at 3AM to shout
and curse me for the simple, bloody mess I’ve made of it.
Sunshine summers are arid and the vistas are filled with illusions
by comparison. We walk together, the hot salt air carrying
our strides to a fishmonger where we happily buy salted cod
to fry for dinner on a grill we bought.  We walk like kittens
in the burning sand.  In truth, I want to be an occupied nation,
would you join me in captivity?  For all I know we’ve dreamed
this wild fantasy together, in spite of ourselves, in spite of all
the water that flooded our home: kitchens, halls, and hearts.