The beach house had ordinary views
of the sea, dunes, and sea oats. Inside
were sandy floors, blankets that smelled
funny, and the usual pots of dead Geraniums.
The old New Yorkers had parts 1&3
of a 3 part John McPhee series.
There was rain on planned beach
days and always the sound of waves.
There was a dog.
Every morning brought the
Shepherd mix they called Pismo.
His giant tail swept the sand
and grit from the screened porch
as he begged for leftovers
and kibble from WaWa.
Than a short nap, a bark
at the door and gone.
My wife found it in the attic
after her father's funeral.
A dusty, ribbon-tied box
stored and forgotten.
She held a corsage pressed
in a dance card from a prom
as she read a love note scrawled
by the drunken thief of her virginity.
Robert Halleck is a retired banker living in Del Mar, California with his muse Della Janis. He has been writing poetry for over 50 years and has published three collections of his work. He has appeared in a number of Kind of a Hurricane Press publications. His recent work has appeared or will appear in The San Diego Poetry Annual, The Patterson Review, Third Wednesday, Chiron, Halcyon Days, and Rusty Truck. He has a weakness for open mics and loves to race Thor, his old but sturdy Porsche. He will be attending Kenyon College's summer program for the second year during the July session.