driftwood

The sun explodes on the surface of the water,
sears a little deeper into my shoulders’ sun-darkened skin.
I throw my hair back into the coolness, face the sun again –
even with my eyes closed the light is blinding.

I dive into the gleaming water and pretend
that the afternoon is not about to end,
that the dock where my friends wait is not so near,
that the cooler is still full of soda and beer.

Friends call to me, but I hold out for a little more,
floating down the river just a little longer
away from the life that waits on the shore.