What if I'd seen you first on sand, beside a tide pool
On a beach, the ocean's waves at work behind you,
Sun upon your scarlet hair? I'd have thought your
Beauty there was but an element of all the other
Beauty I was seeing, something my eyes might possess,
But not a thing to take with me, not a thing which could
Be taken. That is how I see you here, among the shelves
Of shit we fill each morning from the trucks which come,
A treasure in the oddest place. Alas, still one which
Can't be taken, even if I only hoped to bring you
To a beach.