the ruins

young lovers sucking tapioca up the straws. the bees taking apart coastal buckwheat strand by strand. want to be influencers snapping photos at a high place by the old Cliff House. a tall athletic girl running in circles in her lululemons. a thousand broken steps surround what was. a black and white memory of the Sutro Baths. we walk out on the rocks and drape our clumsy bodies over them, staring at the big one. angling pelicans. ptarmigans. laughing gulls. skimmers in perfect lines a touch above. all is calm and nonviolent like, when the sea reaches suddenly in, grabs and pulls us under.

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