I brought home the pebbles in the pockets of my clamdiggers--
they weighed down the damp twill fabric
and pressed on my legs.

Later,

Where the sea breeze couldn't reach (in cool the basement),

We opened the rubber-smelling lid
And you mixed the magic
Until it was just the right consistency
While I played with the wing nuts.
(I liked to watch them spin on the floor.)

If I enclosed you in a tumbler
full of fine-ground insights,
And allwed you to churn...
Overnight?
For a fortnight?
Endoverendoverendoverend...
Would you emerge shining and open to my suggestions?

Just under the surface:
cold. smooth.

Cape May Diamonds.