I ignore the sign
that says the beach closes
at sunset as I sit on a
rock with a half bottle
of ginger ale topped
with bourbon. Evening
mist cut by passing car
lights gives a lambent
glow to a sea rising and
falling in gentle waves.
Tonight is mine. I am
ignoring all signs: no
alcohol, no dogs, no
fires. My shepherd is
shadowed by a small glow
from embers that were
once flames. It feels
good to push against
what is supposed to be.
The tide will rise to cover
the sins of my presence.

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Robert Halleck is a member of San Diego's Not Dead Yet Poets. He is a Pushcart nominee and has published poems for over 40 years. He gives poetry readings throughout the San Diego and Los Angeles areas, and reviews poetry for Split Rock Review.

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