One hundred degrees Fahrenheit in the shade.
The scent of you and that of the salty ocean.
Sand in your hair.
Your wet shirt coiled at my feet.
Inside the echoes of a pink conch, my love for you tosses like a new born in a crib.
A paddle-like tail raises from the water; a sea snake.
Your green eyes devour me.
Why is there always a snake inside the core of our myths?