Know this curve of bay well.
Walked it, swam it, dug my feet

into its sandy slope so many times
it feels like one of the elements

of this island that have seeped
into me. Surely, my blood must

be half seawater by now. And,
just arrived again, he and I

sit under the sheltering arms
of a welcoming tree whose

name I once knew. Now I
do not. There are so many

things I do not know, I realize,
after collecting a lifetime’s

knowledge. Like how some
of us choose the more hateful

path, and some of us lean
into love with a heartiness

that, well, heartens my heart.
Him there, he heartens my

heart, the one with whom
I look out on ocean that

calls me, soothes me,
reminds me that, as Rick

told Ilsa, my fears don’t
amount to a hill of beans

in this crazy world. But
if you’ve got someone

to sit with and do nothing
but look at ocean waves

gentle themselves into
shore, you’ve got a winner

there, someone with whom
you can ride out the crazy,

who will remind you of
your infinitesimal place

in the world, and of the
greater-than-great space

that you happily occupy
in his equally huge heart.