In Moloa’a Bay with Finn
The secret, he says,
is patience. I fall again in love
with him exactly then,
his small blonde head bobbing
above the turquoise sea.
We are waiting for a wave
with a large enough curl
to tow us out just a bit
before hurling us toward the shore
in a wild crush of foam
on our Styrofoam boards.
I am in the mood to wait forever.
God, it feels good to feel so small.
The boy is laughing. He loves
that I love him. His eyes
never leave the horizon.