Walking barefoot on the beach,
we left our footprints in the sand.
Ten toes times two,
A high arch plus flatfooted.

Each grain of sand
a divisor of happiness.
No common divisor,
always a remainder.
Something to pick up on the beach.
A starfish, a ribbon of kelp.
An agate or a pearly shell.

Driftwood forts shore up our memories.
Driftwood sticks get sand buffed
and polished over time.
Becoming like jewels,
stones that count.

The money pennies
curl into the crest of a wave
like an infant taken up to nurse.
The baby pushes it's face
down into the water
like the time it had gills to breath.

Cave paintings last on rocks.
I put a stone
where I wrote your name
next to mine in the sand.
All things remembered.