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You wish for a pause
in the action,
a sweet reprieve.
You want it all
to go away
for a moment,
to let you drift.

Remember those summers
at Huntington Beach?
How you would lie
on the warm sand
until every bit of you
was so hot you would
practically leap up
and go running
into the ocean?
And there you would stay
for a time without measure,
buoyed by wave after wave,
a plaything of the tide,
adrift in every possible way.

The sand was bright,
the water brighter still,
and the sky was all sun.

How you wish for
that reprieve now,
with no beginning or end,
with no deadlines on the horizon,
just the sun and the bright sand
and the water, brighter still.