A photo of sea week. [day 23]

( You are found
in a night alive with people, lost
in the warmth of laughing
faces. )   

    Portuguese
    sounds syrupy
    amplified in air soft
    with fanta fizz and beer. The ache

    in your legs is comfortable,
    tucked away at the back
    of your calves. The blur

    of talk is cool against
    the back of your head. You float
    above a crowd of well-wishers, into
    the orange sky.   

( Next morning
you are told
they found you sleeping
through the fireworks. )