A Window Frame

I opened a window to a summer of strolls
and sole-spent shoes,
whose melted image stuck a mild taste of salt
from wasted shorelines,
at fault for my sore palate,
reckoning the distress in recollection.
Uneasy, I chased guilt in dripping sand grains,
filtered filth from damned directions,
searched all but the chains I know gripping
only to perish at the sight of a cliff window,
revealing the summer I am now living.

Rooms by the Sea (1951). Edward Hopper.