We live in the space between the moon and its reflection, a loving smile and a forlorn sigh, free-falling through each moment, to leave them all, still and high above us, ever more obscured by distance and the roaring gravity of time.
We walk a crooked tideline, in that place between the ocean and the land, below the cries of passing gulls, whose notes bend downward as they recede, and our watery footprints dimple the sand, for the short distance between our steps and the next inevitable wave.