Little Boy, Little Girl

Her eyes are protected by a thick crust that keeps moonlight from creeping through her long lashes and closed lids. I stoop low and hover above her sleeping naked body that would float away with a strong gust or a stiff drink. Outside in the tremor of night on the pale sea sands, a row of gulls squawk in sequence all balancing on beams of disposed cigarettes. A rotting dock unusable juts out into the calm endless expanse and I suddenly realize that the world is flat. My open mouth lets free a foamless salted water stream and awakens the sleeping deranged angel brown eyed and haired. The crust flies free from her long-closed slumber eyes though too quick to see without slow motion capabilities. A flash of fear appears in eyes red stained from drink drugs and long episodes of insomnia punctuated by restless bouts of stunted hibernation. I look over my shoulder and see an old sun-leathered man draped in rags standing idly on the boardwalk in front of a closed salt water taffy store staring at the curling waves under the black star speckled sky. He looks over to me, at my scarred face and down to the naked nymph buttoned below me. Through tattered gloves his fingers stretch. He reaches up to his left eye, removes it without expression and offers it to me. The squawking gulls circle and flee by flight and leave a serene silence allowing the crashing waves to become the only remaining sound. I peel back the sky and jump into the white void, leaving them together to pick up the fallen stars.