Waterside Walk – Jackson McCarthy

—at six, in the evening, at full tide.
When the water’s all the way in,
right up against the road
like a swimming pool or a lake
and the joggers, mostly men,
show a thigh to the thigh-watchers,
watch the nipple-peaks of waves
spool over large, orange rocks.
See the ladies tasting soup in the soup-windows,
the kissing couple on the kissing-bench.
The sunset sets, like an egg yolk
split by the ocean. Fork, called horizon.