Everything Is Perfect
by William L. Alton
William L. Alton

William L. Alton has been writing now for nearly twenty-five years, recently publishing work in The Poet's Canvas, Red River Review, The Oklahoma Review, Whalelane and KOTA Press. Currently, he lives in Forest Grove, Oregon, with his wife and three sons.

The sky is smooth as blue marble.
White sand and small rocks
dig into our knees, our backs and hips.
Women out on towels and blankets
their breasts bare, nipples crinkled
as tissue paper. Their eyes closed
behind dark glasses. We smoke and listen
to the wakes of boats roll onto the beach.
We sleep beneath the knobby joints
of trees. Dreams unfold
against our eyelids. I run my finger
through the sweat between your shoulders.
Your hips flare like a butterfly
at the end of your spine.
Everything is perfect for just a moment.

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