The Look Of It (Puerto Peñasco) Beth Henson

The taste of the sea, the smell of it, the salt better than sweet. A day when only the dead are worth reading, breaking the reverie of chirpy birds behind the pile of fake rocks around the abandoned cabaña. Abandoned, without a flag, without your wedding ring. Laughing as we exchanged all previous gold for scrap, including the one you took off with your watch when we were first lovers. A day when the dead weigh more than the living, whose promises — as mine to you — are light as air.