Shadows of real giants

with a thunder clap of applause

the giants appear

so much shorter than I imagined

and so much more afraid

with a sweat-drenched brow

and stammerstammered words

as the lightning of the cameras

illuminates their tired features

and casts shadows of real giants

on the purple curtains

a secret code

I have invented a secret code

for the times when subtlety is key,

such as when you are in the hallway

and the words behind my back

accidentally become the words in front of my face.

I have invented a secret code

for when I am trying to study

and you are trying to fill every space

with as much of your voice as possible

just to see if you can.

I have invented a secret code

for when it is late at night

and I have a test tomorrow

and you are trying to speak only to the one

who you are losing.

I have invented a secret code

called silence.

I don't care for flowers

across the way, through the window of our neighbor

there sit, upon the windowsill, in a pristine, glass vase,

three white camelias, two red tulips

and one blaring, orange day lily

I saw them delivered by a man with slender hands and a kiss

while I peered over my computer

I couldn’t help thinking, just then,

that I don't care for flowers

but you could give me some.

our beaches

our beaches are empty
of red umbrellas
and blue plastic shovels
and dancing people

our sands are not yellow
like a brightly painted nursery
but they are white like bones
and the sky is gray-but-still-blue
with busy, busy winds
that shake us

the sand gets into our clothes
and between our fingers
and the water chills us
so we flee the tide
and huddle like penguins
for warmth
inside the jacket that you brought

and the busy wind still blows
and cuts past our legs
bare and cold as steel
as we walk the long quarter-mile
to our car

the sun is still nowhere
and the sky is blue-but-still-gray
but the sand has smoothed our skin
and that skin having known the water
feels so soft

so as our bare feet climb the hill
(that we couldn’t wait to tumble down into the ocean
but now cannot wait to scramble back up)
though the busy wind still blows
and the sky is blue-but-still-gray
and our legs are still bare
our meager jacket makes us feel
hearth-warm