A Swim in the Dead of Night

The swaying was cut off
by a circulation of thoughts
The boy in the storm
got caught in the undertow.

The rapid pounding of waves
on his watery grave
his foreshadowed fate
was flailing in vain.

She feels the coarse sand on her feet, as she waits on the shore,
It;s cold so she walks back and waits in the car.
The windshield still fogged from their hot pleasured moans.
She smiles still thinking they'll both make it home.

His cries in the wind
whistle and sing
"please dear let me in"
"oh love bring me in."

But the salt made him float
lightened and dried up his bones
weightless face down
atop the sea like a boat.

She flicks the headlights because she doesn't see him anymore
Still calm and steady she opens the door
She screams and for a moment shes louder than the roar--
"My baby's dead! thats him on the shore."