Beach Party


I still remember those nights
at Gooseberry Island
when we'd drive out at one in the morning
so the Westport police wouldn't come.

It was Sherry, Chris and Sovie
gathered around the fire and passing the guitar
back and forth as they stared at the dark ocean,
taking swigs of some high-proof booze.

And one time Amber and I peeled off
our clothes and threw ourselves into that dark ocean.
The early Spring water and jellyfish
stung our legs, but we were too free to care.

Sitting by the fire watching everything was Josh,
drinking Bacardi Coco out of a coconut
shouting for the world to hear or maybe to the ocean
that he was a pirate.

We would drop off to sleep like seagulls in the dark,
later to wake up to the sunrise over the ocean,
tangled in each other's arms,
and then tumble into our cars and drive home.