Is Sand A Restaurant Poem by James McLain

It is wide
not that wide
it is white
and looks like snow
it is cool when very hot
at night the people are not allowed
when the sun goes down
the trees root
with the trees
and make more snow
normal days have children
laughing as they play
and women sitting willy, hilly, dips and here
without a care
some boys
trade their chips for shovels
little girls their sisters
trade off secrets with their fathers
about the days the weeks
and who came by and what was paid
or bartered
to the plumber while the pool ran dry
and before the sun goes down
leaving their that trouble all behind
landscaped shores
the wind and waves, exposed it all.