Intemperate

All at sea with the way he left
me still standing with a grin
slightest of wind shifts
blue his net-cast eyes
out and over different directions

such slow retreat of hands
from the roundness of knees
such hat-trick clouds
such impermeable shapes

sticks stiff with sand
unfinished half-names
scrawled into tides

Oh the tide --
yawns wide
greedy for everything.