Tide Line

I drove down alone on Saturday

and stood on the beach for almost an hour.

Never took off my shoes.

There was a man maybe fifty yards down—

jeans, a button-down—

who walked into the water

up to his knees and stopped.

Just stood there.

Facing out.

Not in distress.

Just standing in the water in his clothes.

I watched him for ten minutes.

Then I looked at something else—

a gull, a wrapper, I don't know—

and when I looked back he was gone.

I'd been standing

at the same line the whole time.

The place where the sand darkens.

Where the water had been.

I don't know what I went there for.

I stood until the wind was too much.

Drove home.

The shoes still dry.