in search of la niña
we took the long road
to the top of the island
believing by the time we got back
to the ocean
your father would be gone
pausing along the way
we listened to the distant waves
while lying on our backs
nibbling on treats and
pretending the clouds
flew like pink elephants
the rhythm of the water
slowly put us to sleep
our dreams commingling
as your father’s footfalls
echoed ever closer
december two thousand thirteen
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