Sunday, December 12, 2010

Stranded in Ballina

I follow the
footprints of a dog.

A rust-coloured butterfly surveys
tyre tracks made in wet clay.

My heart lifted
by the tone of red rocks
emerging from earth.

The dog pisses on a boulder;
its owner,
dressed in a black skirt swimsuit,
looks sheepish and proud.

A man in the foreground
appears to run faster than
a sailboat gliding in the distance.

He stops to behold the vessel,
turns, walks in the opposite direction
and becomes a smaller version
of the man I first knew.

Cool, salty air fills my chest cavity
with a deep disregard for the sweat
formerly formed between
bikini cups.

My mind thanks the world
for the respite of occasional clarity.

By Justine Reilly © 2010

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