A blackened silhouette that works

Shoveling sand and water

Cussing as embers appear bright crimson on the beach

I see them flare from where I sit before he does

Behind him the water sparkles in the dying light

Like crystalline shards of glass

The gray-blue clouds even farther still rise up like

Majestic mountains

As if we were in Colorado and there wasn't a town behind him

All the way across the bay

Two toned.

One the color of my jeans, the other a translucent remnant of spilled milk

Exploding with splashes of yellow and dashes of purple

As the horizon melts away

Trees are perfectly blackened props

Parting in all the right places to revel timid stars

Poking their heads out sleepily in the wake of Apollo's chariot

And the grass sprawling green and lush

Like a down comforter fluffed and perfect for napping

Two lawn chairs too close to be merely friends sitting

With twin metal roasters and a half eaten bag of mallows

Melted chocolates

And crumbled crackers

He sings in the darkness, the very same darkness that has taken his face

And his features and the details that define him

I don't know the song, but it's a haunting melody

And I think I can almost see his grin in my direction all the way out on the beach

The moon- our moon- is a like a French manicure

Delicately curved and pristinely white

He trots over to me

I wish this could be forever

I wish the night didn't have to end

I wish I could capture this little piece of forever in a bottle to hold and keep

Until the label has peeled off and the bottle is collecting dust on the mantel