Email Record: Caught in the shadows under the arch / he's grit lodged under a heavy eyelid. / The night's spoor got lost somewhere / in the dark. One had smiled across / as if she would take him in a breath; / another's talk had seemed like the genuine / swag - now it was head rubble, / and the only eye that he was getting / was from the plunderer on the billboard. / Across the beach there are coils of water / glistening moist as grave jewels.