Sea selling

You look like an advertisement
she said to the sea and it smiled back blankly 
to infinity. In a different life, the perfection of this peeling
paint would be an Anthropologie window display
framing floral fabrics.
These speckles of rust: sellable.
Time out the flapping sea birds. Space the boats
without overlap--- how? Who? An interior designer checks the shade
of sky against sea: a few degrees.
The view of nothing upon nothing
sells. Frame it then? No, no, too simple.
The rusty planks to foreground
a flutter draped in the breeze
and distant salad
tossed lightly along shore.
We sink their feet into the sand, see
that's it, there, the epiphany:
there is nothing like it
suction squish ridged dry hot
suck sharp rainsplattered crunch soft
no artful meditation on this skin exists
but here. Dig in their big toe trail
and make up a word for it.