The pier vanishes into two shades of blue
pale blue kissing ink sea.  
How is it one shade can lie
on top of another as if sleep inhaled the sky? 
Wood under foot shudders into infinity
or at least to the white shack at the pier’s end
with its Coca Cola sign, its lunch of battered
and fried shrimp. The breakers rush and roar.  
On a radio a fisherman brought for company, 
the tinny, catchy tune ensnares us. 
We wear bowl cuts, mine black yours blonde, 
silky nets for catching sunlight. 
We sip on milkshakes and study shadows, 
tender, bare feet, or the wide gaps between the slats
that reveal water and rough rock. 
Hand in hand under a birdless sky.  
Years must pass before I look again
and see that yes, we held hands once. 
We ran through slats to the sea. 




Tanuja Wakefield is a poet living in the San Francisco Bay Area. She has an MFA in Poetry from SF State and has had many poems published over the years in journals. A collection of her work will be published in February 2019 with FutureCycle Press. For almost three years, she has served as the poet laureate of Belmont, where she has deeply enjoyed engaging my community with poems.