This way, you say, through those doors
over the line, our papers stamped—
that must mean something. When in doubt,
breathe, take your seat with the rest
of the hunters and thieves.

The people here are different—
not just their hats—they know nothing
of the ashes behind us, the sad
world we’ve invented or how far we have
left to go. It’s warmer—blue around the bend.
Volcanoes bind the bay on the other side—
another place we’ve never been. I should
have kissed you more, made a home
safe from tigers.

Maybe this time, you say. The breeze
is fair — pelicans soar and fall
and float like boats. It’s afternoon
on an endless day. Across the sand,
waves of heat turn light to dream, and I—
for a step or two — believe you.