Oceans take our secrets what we don’t want to see or smell anymore. We feel anonymous we feel clean when we throw our past away. It will wash, we think. It will sink it will drift far from this shore. It will disappear. Maybe the fish will eat our words maybe lost or spurned lovers will help deep-sea feathery green plants grow.
Now and again I find myself walking on the wet, hard-packed sand looking for tears and exotic messages in the creeping, reaching water that just misses touching my toes. Sometimes there’s something clear and obvious like a fingernail or a plastic bag though I’ll never know for sure who threw them away. Once I found a wedding ring uncovered by the receding tide. I didn’t touch it. I was already married.