When the sunshine spoke to me in
Summer-bleached hair and heat, with
White dresses to keep me
Cool enough to function, I
Thought I had it all figured out.
Waves would tumble onto the
Rocky shores beside the bay,
And I’d pretend it was the ocean,
And I’d tell everyone how I
“Can’t wait to move to
Boston, because I love
The ocean,” even though I’d
Never seen it before.
I’d been to the
Gulf of Mexico one time, and
I hated the taste of the salt water
Drying out my lips, but I told everyone
That it was the ocean and I had
Loved it.

I guess that was the biggest lie of all.
I don’t have anything figured out, because
I don’t even know what love is, so
How can I love the ocean?

I don’t know the ocean, either.
But maybe that’s why they say that
Love is blind.
(And I hope it can’t taste, either.)