I’m starving for a picnic
on the shore of a California beach;
a chance to relive those twelve-hour vacations
that were more than a day off work,
a day off school,
a day to ditch
the daily grind.
they were
this-is-the-life moments
that got me through the rest of the year.
my dad’s tennis shoes filling with sand,
bath towels posing as beach towels,
novels that would never be read,
scattered around,
looking relaxing just lying there.
one of us setting off to find a shell
that isn’t broken;
that is smooth and perfect.
I want to feel those memories
in the calm-me-down
content-with-this
part
of my stomach,
while I let the sun make a color wheel
on the inside of my eyes.
please
make me an uncomplicated sandwich
and spread it with peace
or peanut butter;
whichever is on hand.
because
like a mermaid returning to sea-weed bed sheets
after a trial run with Egyptian cotton;
I am home again--
feeding off the waves
that fuel something inside me
that goes dry
when I’ve been away for too long
tell me with your eyes,
you-don’t-have-to-go-back-just-yet.
tell me,
“that sunburn looks great on you.”
tell me that sand is nature’s pedicure
and that when I take off my shoes,
I have become a world traveler;
standing on stones
that have touched a thousand shores.
(Note: This poem is still a rough draft. Any suggestions for how to make it better would be appreciated.)
