Vanishing Point

Boys paddle into the surf
on their boards, waiting for the swells
which will whip them up to that stance
where they’re poised between dark
cobalt sky and the quivering lip
of a wave— Above, a helicopter hovers
and for a moment I teeter, too,
on the edge of this spectacle:
green and blue umbrellas raised
in defense against the sun,
oiled bodies glistening on the shore;
far off in the distance,
the silhouette of a boat slim
as a needle poised on the water’s surface.

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