Oceanic Lullaby

She is always washing in and out of Anthy's dreams. The tides tangle tiny golden shells and foam like liquid pearls in her curls. Her limbs are washed-white and taste of ancient brine.

Anthy thinks about the shade of her eyes in terms of the ocean breakers-- pale blue in the morning and indigo by night, but always reliably sparkling and clear.

By day Anthy navigates the pavement perimeter of sea cities. She doesn't mind the seedy motels or grit in her flip-flops any more.

At night, along each identical boardwalk, the tourists stop and admire her ornate sand castles. She smiles vaguely at their praise, and patiently smoothes the wet sand into spires.

Anthy knows one day that girl will emerge from the nets of her dreams, and she will never need castles again.