Zero Proof

The pier was a spine of rotting wood

reaching out into the black of the bay.

I sat where the salt air felt good

and watched the last of the light go gray.

Twenty-six came without a single shout,

just a cold slice of pepperoni on my knees.

I stuck a match in the crust to find out

if I could make a wish in the breeze.

I never struck it. I just watched the tide

pull the sand away from the shore.

It was the first time I didn't have to hide

that I didn't want anything more.