tent door. I trudge across the dunes to 

 where sandpipers doze in a one-legged 

 pose. The beach here is a window between 

 worlds, and I sit on the sill, watching them 

 both awaken. 



Granted, there is sand in my ears and 

 a chip of oyster shell in my eyebrow, but 

 there is no visible damage from the 

 previous evening's revelry. The sea is 

 calm. Pelicans skim the surf, wingtip to 

 wingtip, the low sun casting their shadows 

 on the dunes, where the tracks of ghost 

 crabs crisscross like tiny tractor treads. I 

 follow a set of prints through the sea oats 

 until they disappear into a crab hole, and 

 wonder if its occupant is staring at me 

 from the black void. 



I trace my own tracks back through 

 the dunes to the tent village, where a few 

 people are stirring, water bottles in hand, 

 wishing they'd remembered to bring 

 Pop-Tarts or fruit bars for breakfast. The 

 fire ring is a mere black smudge in the 

 sand. Scattered about are drink cans, 

 scorched marshmallow sticks and 

 hundreds of oyster shells. There is work 

 to be done. 



The tents are soaked with ocean 

 spray and need to be draped over the 

 dunes to dry before stowing. We must 

 pack up our things and police the 

 dunes for shreds of paper and foil. 

 Then we'll pile into the boats and 

 leave behind only irritated crabs and 

 footprints in the sand, soon to be 

 covered by the same waters that have 

 washed away the hard edges of our 

 souls. 



For these few days we have left 

 behind the protective coloration we 

 wear like tiger stripes in the world at 

 large. Once ashore on the mainland, 

 we will rub our bellies and moan, 

 and for another year we will talk 

 about the oysters, not letting on 

 why we go to the trouble of the 

 Roast at all — for the chance to 

 crawl out of our pigeonholes, to 

 remove all our labels and stand in 

 the dark, thanking the twinkling 

 stars above that some things — 

 sea tides, the taste of oysters and 

 these friendships — never change. □ 



