house on the coast

I pace in circles. Then straight lines through the hallway from my bedroom. I sit, and almost immediately stand again, to pace in circles again in the den. I fidget. I stare out the window and the see the sea, and it calms me. And that frightens me.

So I put your picture back in my pocket, and take off my worn-out Reeboks.

I need to go the beach tonight-now-to stop the pacing, to heed some immutable call from the ocean.

To be that much closer to how far I am from you.

On the way out of the back door, I unthinkingly grab a pencil and my Moleskine notebook, and then I am on my way, breeze behind my back blowing me to shore like a sail to the ship it will carry across.

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