Beach

John is wrong. Admit it.
Flesh comes first, warm kiss of skin on skin,
first finger tips,
then face on face, neck, nipples,
and the lips,
the torch of tongue caressing.

Sun and wind draw eyes to skin,
the well-oiled limbs
that walk the dunes among wild grasses
sown
to hold the dunes in place.

The crashing waves come in
and then subside
to slide and smooth the sand
the way a hand
may glide when oiling skin.

Sandpipers hunt
where spent waves slide back down
the now smooth sand
and pull along whatever they encounter:
stone, shell or feather,
sandcastles and moats as well.