The Longer Road

You walk down to the water
with your shoes still in your hand.
I roll my jeans above my knees.
You reach for me again.
We leave our bags together
at the bottom of the steps.
You ask how long I'm staying.
I haven't booked that yet.
I'm in no hurry
to get back home.
Walk a little slower.
Take the longer road.
You don't have to ask me.
I'm not ready to go.
You shake the sand out of your shirt.
I find it in my hair.
You tell me I've missed some,
then leave your fingers there.
I've got a room across the town.