Your flat feet beneath the water,
flickered like goldfish, patiently living.
I felt it, the ice in the water
that was a burning sun on the tips of your toes.
The goldfish wish you were not a stranger;
prepare to leave them alone.
Not a bit of discomfort to you
as you pull on wool socks and
forget your shoes under the sandy earth.
Right here, at the littoral zone –
you walk away, unhearing
the sonorous sound
the fish make as the sun
retracts its treasure.