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…