the graham's a tease

Awake in the dusk of noon.
I run down the grahams to the tide
They don't crumble under my feet
nor the veneered white of the water
as they often do in my mouth.

Wishing that shooting star
could point us home
Wading through shadows and vendors of art
Now dissipated, we're alone

And we talk about friendship,
and of nothing full to the brim
of bikes and wood and awkwardness
but not really about him.

He says we're well acquainted
and i laugh at his heavy breath
Waiting for thoughts to spill out
of things I haven't heard yet.

And he says he doesn't know me,
and in fear I agree.
But I know him and admire him
for the man he is and wants to be.

I guess I'm like the tide
A constant friend in tow and haste
But perhaps I'll tire for the graham's a tease
and it seems I'll never get a taste.