Friday, July 13, 2007

Fire Island

1. Sayville Ferry
2. Atlantic Ocean
3. Beach
4. Cherry's Bar


5. Ocean II

I hailed the Ocean today, as if it was a friend,
buoying me up as if I was bodiless. Then

one huge wave caught me, not unaware, not
unprepared, but with zero opposing force.

This was what being overpowered felt like:
my feet were swung over my head, my torso

was lost to my mind, my mind was thrashing
underwater in the flooded cave of the nose.

Only when I staggered up the beach did I
remember putting out my desperate hands

to stop myself from being dashed against sand.
The cuts on my left palm were many but tiny.

Don’t be a baby, I scolded. Back in my room,
I washed away the sand caking my balls, stuffing

my ears, and corking up my ass. No tweezers,
so my nails picked at the chips buried in my palm,

tearing the tiny tears bigger to remove them.
When I lowered my head, my nose watered,

the Ocean’s reminder that it is not my friend,
not even an enemy, but impersonal, like eternity.

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