On the Southside of France

Have fun trying to quantify everything,
for while you're at the drawing board
puzzled at the make of the stars
I'll be undressing on an isolated shore,
on the southside of France
dragging my feet slowly and methodically
through the warm, burning sand
letting the starlit tide kiss my toes like a worshipper,
I will pitch forward and slide into the indigo
the surface continuous with the skin on my back,
the sea just one large body,
and I'm just a pore of skin adding to it,
but to be a part of something so blue and so right,
watching the stars crystallizing over a sky
I couldn't feel more whole,
than right here, wading with the universe.
And perhaps one day, you'll buy that plane ticket
and join me and my pruned hands
when you realize that all you've got is your equations,
and I've got my heart.

-anna sluder

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