We drunkenly slide down dunes, kicking up sand and blinding the night with disposable camera flashes.
The full moon illuminates everything and you hold my sandals for me and we get to the bottom and I stumble out of my jeans because I want to go in to the ocean.
You tell me I'm crazy and that it's cold but you pull off your clothes and I snap a picture of you and run into the ocean that is not really an ocean but a sound.
-- CH
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