Our hips meet with the uneven rhythm of the sea -

bounding forward and retreating -

I meet you

just-past-the-crest
of your thrust,

travel with you a second
then ebb away
curving and arching to accent the motion;

but, with the sea's syncopation,
still, in the mirror,
our smooth sand-colored curves
are shadowed like desert dunes;
our love, as unlikely as ocean in desert...