Analysis of Drinking Song

Across a gulf
the cooling beams burst from behind
clouds. Nothing is set.

I wrap you in blankets
like the woman who sleeps in
a wheelchair outside
the closed souvenir store.

When it opens we turn
to shore and gather shells.
I can barely hold what I find and you
have no trouble with one at a time,

singing, while you dance across the bridge,
a song of waves but not the song itself.