It Wasn't Us (or Sympathy For My Ex's Exes)

This is a slight change of pace. It may appear there's no direct "Sea" reference.  I would argue that any sure knowledge, any knowing, for me, will stem from time spent connecting to source - the sea. 

For every woman who's ever gotten in line . . . and for every man who eventually looks up in surprise to find nobody there.

They just get lovelier,

Each consecutive one.

Eyes sparklier,

Smile brighter.

And with each new one I wonder,

“Where was the . . .

(chocolate cake, hand on the small of the back, lingering gaze, flirty whisper)

when I was there?”

And then the eyes and the smile change
(a knowing);
 And then the eyes and the smile CHANGE
(a going).

And I realize, I too sparkled and was bright.

I was simply the first in the sparkly, bright line.

And the liberating truth is that

None of us was ever anything less than sparkly and bright.

It. Wasn’t. Us.