I dreamt that we went surfing
along the Oregon coast.
Our lives, baptized
by those cold, Pacific waves.
On the shore, we ate plums
dusted
in sand.
Cannon Beach, maybe.
You laughed,
and I smiled.
And I don’t remember the color of your eyes but
I remember how I felt
when you looked at me:
whole, holy,
whatever the word is
for the feeling of transcendent
beauty.
A wonder large enough
to break me, just like
those waves
crashing
over our windburned faces and memories.
I think about you more
now than I did when
we were closer than the
length of Alaska
from each other.
And though I know you’ve
got your own
life to live and
loves to love,
I dream of surfing, and you next to me
on the Oregon coast.
Cannon Beach, maybe.
– Jake Johnson
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