island medicine

five a.m. sitting on the roof listening to Joni Mitchell, roosters, palm trees shimmying in the cool breeze ~ down the hill and around the bend, beyond the fort and the ferry dock, fishermen setting out in the dark, work to be done ~ we are stars, we are golden, we are glitter globe ocean, utterly fluid, satisfying resistance of swimming in time, simply the substance that renders our bodies nearly weightless ~ sea salt skin, tight curls, taut bellies, beach babies, pink insides of conch shells whispering, mopeds and tight-jean mamas, half-remembered dreams, cold coffee, easy beauty, slow surrender.

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