The waves mocked me.
On other days I might have skipped stones
over their contempt.
But not today.
What brought me here
to suffer the shrieking indifference of seagulls
and the apathy of rocks?
Maybe I thought you’d run to me
a store of shells cupped in your hands
On other days your pleasure
might have melted my morbidity.
On other days,
but not today.