Eurostar
by Julia Eng
the waves came in over my head
rolling lines these
fat rolling lines
of full and cowering white
sand in my peach bikini
bottoms, the color of his lights
he scoops me up out of clean saline
to prop me back on my pink-toed
feet
maybe I’ll see you around this
time next year
if I’m not in Paris and you’re not
in Berlin
I say
maybe if we’re away at the
same time, we can meet each other
half way
he says but
I know either way he
will want to drink and I will
want to sleep beside him
and feel his breath in the down of
the mattress
so I just smile and nod
as I push my hair from my forehead