THE BLUE CAR
Yesterday, we drove out to Ogunquit
in your big, white rented car they called blue
in the paperwork. Really, it is pearl—
as teeth are pearls in Persian poetry.
How strange to get there and see the beach pale
with snow; the tide had pulled a sand curtain
up and over the blinding bleach of it—
cleaner than pearl or the hard enamel
of teeth. The snow seemed to leech the whole world
of tone and hue. But then muddied with sand.