I could enunciate the details of every single rock that sunk
and clamored beneath our feet
craggy but soft
eroded by a hundred years of salt baths
each and everyone of them called out my name
I put two of them in my pocket.
“Hold onto those rocks,” you said
Clenching them in my fists
I feel the rumble of the ocean
the wind in my hair
the fetid smell of algae and seaweed
the soft ripple of tide pools
no matter where I am.