The girl is as aged as the shoreline.

SHORE BY LAURIN MACIOS 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 21

It smells like ocean because it is one. You breathe it,

pull a rock from behind your ear, show it

to the little girl dressed in rain boots; it’s white

and marbley and shaped like a cake slice. Marry me

in winter when the birds are away. Just the crows

(you don’t count them) will land on the wet ink

of our n…