the rock at garvey's point

we should never have left.
all the gulls were on their cell phones.
they were calling their insurance companies
& begging for help. i was doing the same
earlier that week. your sunglass 
were portals into the night world
where neither of us needed to sleep.
waves against the shore. each washed up 
boots & bridal gowns. veils & zippers. 
we stayed on our perch, sitting side-bye-side
on the largest rock in the sand. 
i would venue to call it an island. 
you talked about us buying an apartment
in brooklyn. i talked about the taste
of brine. the half-flat tire. i listened to hungry trees
telling each other nostalgia stories
of when there were more roots
& less catastrophe creatures like us.
after we left the little ocean park
we loved to drive the rich people lands
where everyone was shiny. 
old mansions & new mansions
& mansions at risk of falling
into the water. people who owned boats 
& boats who owned people.
i still crave the rock at garvey's point. 
its warmth. it's humming. if we would
have stayed i think i could have become
a glorious lichen. you could have seen me
all sea green & ruffled. instead,
we argued about mosquitos 
in a stop & shop parking lot.
a men ate his hot dog dinner, sitting
on his car's bumper only a few
feet away. i wanted to talk but little stones
kept coming out. they filled my pockets.
you had headlights for eyes.
all the rich people houses 
glowed as if harboring angels. 
we did not make it home until
everyone else in the world 
was asleep. the rock letting the waves 
kiss away her throat. if it is still there
we could go back. i hate that impulse i have.
the little insatiable mouth telling me,
"i think we were real there."