SUNDAY BY THE SEA

Even within
this Georgian tea cup
by this half empty corner
my memory
by these mirrors is clear
under a marbled eyed ceiling
in this lighted cafe
unlike the scratched graffiti
we noticed
near the old walled ruins
of another era
spaced along countryside,
getting out of my car
by the bell tolling church
keeping a quiet vigil
along tall landscaped dunes
along the transparent sea
overlooking an ancient bridge
under puffy gray clouds
on an August Sunday
an exhaling young swimmer
in an orange towel dances
with a radio sounding rap
by children along the sand
over a wizened road.