Zg Tomaszewski

Out here, these red socks are what remind me of you, the pair
I bought at a thrift store in Marquette for 49 cents.
Who buys used socks? you laughed.
It turned cold and my boots' soles wore out and rubbed
my heels down hard. So much walking. Turning
away and eventually we've gone too far.
The sun unfolds its tender pink against the sky. The cool lake stretches
north. I watch the wrinkles and feel them like time.
A gull reminds me of the words I wanted to say, but the wind snapped
the line and left me static. I'm thinking of you
as I sit with myself on a fallen cedar peering out at Presque Isle.
Now, the spirit expands like a river given days of rain,
but there in the city where you must be so busy, it is dammed.
The soul remains the same size and is always immeasurable.
I dream more than what I am able to attain and yet I will keep dreaming.
I slip my shoes off and peel back the socks.
I bury them in the sand and step toward the shore.