Michelle Paulsen
weekends of walking into the you grow tired a strange sudden
in storms
here is a
difference in what
water can
reflect. driving down the
sun on route one, to
sit at the end
of the boardwalk
in santa cruz,
fishing. your only
view of the
atlantic, enough
to feel the dark
commerce measured by
waves. or swimming
to the raft as a
child, lying flat
on your back
endlessly rocking
 staring at a naked
up on his there is something
then there was the it may be a
snowflakes are fireflies for driving in the there is a
2River