At your parents' beach house you slept next to me like a 
patient on a gourney. I watched gravity hold you down as 
you sleep. Slipping shoes over bare feet, 3 a.m., walking 
clumsily down to the beach. Stumbling from the lack of 
sleep, the alcohol wore off but we still felt so free. 
Drunken college kids mistake us for friends, I'll sit 
back and let them. We can matter to someone and the waves 
will pull the sand out to sea. Gravity will crush us 
someday.