Miles of rippled sand and

Sunset in orange wavelengths

Are the most perfect setting

For selfish escapism.

As I stand atop the mound

For a minute, I feel free

here - Why oblige? Why belong?

Just like that, though, it hits me.

My defunct Ray Bans come off

and Pictures of You comes on

casting my mind back and forth.

Your hair, auburn, elusive

My hands, clenched, agitated

Your lips, lustful, enticing

My lips, dry as the desert

Your eyes, a forgotten shade 

My eyes, frustrated, bereft.