(for my brother)
The long legged boy stands on the
beach
Ankles sprouting out from his
flapping pant legs
White socks, stretched high
Black sneakers, double knotted
(He hates the feel of grainy sand
On his bare feet)
He refuses to go in the water
Choosing instead
To pick his way along the rock
studded landscape
Standing out as a tall, lonely
specter
In the flat emptiness
Of the shore
He searches the ground, bending into
the wind
Picking up the flattest stones
Rubbing over their smoothness
With his frog-like fingers
Before skimming them
Into the water
And when one skips
Three perfect, arching hops
He raises his arms
In victory
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