Seaside, Oregon

We’ll dip our back tires in the Pacific…

 

On the map, Seaside gleamed:

a carpet of sand, sun, 

Ellen and I standing,

backs to the sea, bikes at our sides, 

the shoreline beckoning.

 

Through the mist, Seaside emerged:

outcrops of black,

Ellen scrambling, cursing,

heaving her bike over wet rocks,

“Touch the water, let’s go.”