The pewter-grey clouds look ominous,
dark horizon where a sunset should be,
sending tourist indoors.
I wander the empty lanes, indifferent to
to imminent rain. The cries and beating of
seagull wings follow me into
intractable flocks undeterred by
the oncoming storm, their only concern
to accomodate perpetual hunger,
never ones to squander opportunity —
haunting reminders of a sea
close enough to salt my skin,
blue-green waters I dare not
gaze upon for fear I might see
the color of her eyes.