silver people on the shoreline

 

do waves in the reservoir count

toward a balance of charged ions

concretely lapping at virgin beaches

in the prison for misfortunate water

the grebes are free to go

as are pilgrims who circumambulate

the edifice of fitness

whose ebullience delivered them

from laptops spiritually

poised to look

and be looked at

to exchange in the communion

a wafery smile or stolid rebuff

they’ve got dogs

to ride in the wind

catch fire on the palisades

or a lock of emerald palm