At Bay

My skin is sticky, salty, newly acquired tan lines stretching taut against my seams but not unpleasant. I steal an aloe vera leaf from a hotel we pass, running its sticky insides against my pinkening skin. He says Is that how you're supposed to do it? and all I can retort is That is how my mother always did it, and it seems the most valid reason there is. Night falls early but a full moon carries us home across the island, lighting the clouds in an eerie blue glow. I am too tired to wash the sea off my body and go to bed on white linens with black feet. Today was sunny and warm. Tomorrow will be sunny and warm. The pictures do nothing justice so I stop taking them. 

Lean back and let the soft sounds of silence rock me to sleep.