Grit

Sometimes the slap comes before the sound,
But the sound comes after the realization…
…something is coming.

I try to stand amid the rocks I know are there,
Won't slip because there's too much on my shoulders,
You are spread like foam on the shoreline.
But I can't catch you…
…you slip right through my fingers.

I know my words can be full of grit,
Like sucking the ocean through your teeth…
…but the crunch feels good.

You want to believe you could do nothing wrong.
Can't you see? We all do something wrong sometimes.
Like leaving our book in the desert sun.
The page yellows to dust…
…which slips right through our fingers.

The aftermath of the big parade is sad,
Our ties are forgotten streamers underfoot…
…melt into the ground.

I can't stop the tide…
…the end…
…the change…
…the loss.
I can't prop myself up on your skeleton.
So I'll drown my indifference in beef jerky and stale cherry turnovers.