It's Always Ourselves We Find In The Sea

I leave a trail of sand behind me everywhere I wander. Tiny grains of gold cling to me long after I have abandoned the ocean shore. A series of miniature beaches has formed in all of my purses; tiny oases that don't belong inside the pretty lining and make my car keys look like shipwreck victims. My bedroom floor is coated with a thin layer of salt and sand; it gathers in drifts near my shoes and grows more shallow near the boundary of my door. My feet trace confused paths around the room; hectic and bewildered prints near closet, but heavy and weary ones beside my bed. If you manage to follow them long enough they will always lead you back to the sea.