We went to the Pacific, but we weren’t alone. There, also, was the rival to my burgeoning affections. On the beach, I lay on my own sheet, watching both of them share something I could never have. As you laughed, I watched your feet trail across the muck of wet sand into the rainbows in the spray of the sea salt. I needed to rub myself with my towel, as one does with a jewel and a cloth, because I felt like an emerald that was jealous of a ruby. On this day, the sea was not blue, but instead had the verdure of a vegetable. It was deep and green, and I did not know what I could expect to come rising that was no longer dormant in the clime of the brine. But whatever it was, I wanted it to eat him.