The Lost One

Far beyond the breakers—
those violent white scribbles—& far
beyond the indifferent

moat of the fog
& infinitely smaller than the pebbles
of starlight the telescopes

don't pick up,
she rides the sky he wants
to dream:

size 4 suit, tight
coiffure, serious glasses,
masterful, sober,

reading her portion
of the night: the fate
he'll never forget.

You, poet, watch his dreams,
you aren't in them but you
write them down,

& you write that down too.
And the breakers
speak their snarl of sentences

while great fish pace beneath
the glimmering surface,
& hawks loop above the pines

at the edge of the beach.