Retro Surf Trip

At their usual spot,
the point at Refugio,
the surf was flat,
so they boogied down
in the cove,

the fronds of the palms
fat and glassy green,
the rocks at the edge
smooth with rust moss hair,
the nose of his board

thrust up and curling
and curling in the blue
air of smiling swells,
but still the waves
would not break

into hysterical laughter:
“There are no trees
on the sea,” she said,
holding a cream white
pink mophead hydrangea.

“You look for shade
under the cool curl,”
he said, recalling their first
time – as soon as he stood
he wiped out,

his board pushed in
with the soupy surf,
he wore no leash,
paddled out again,
and she lotioned in the sand.

4 Comments Add yours

  1. The words you’ve written go so well with these photos, a true treasure! Thank you for sharing this.
    -IV

    Like

  2. Dan Hen says:

    I’ve known those people .

    Like

    1. Joe Linker says:

      Ah! Present Perfect!

      I have known
      the ocean.

      Like

Leave a Note.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s