Archive 12/01/10 - (3)

 

   

At the Seashore

                                                                  

I'm home again, safe,

But stepping off the plane, onto the jet bridge,

I can safely say I'm not all that happy.

 

The unheated corridor is a shock to my being.

St. Louis is Nome, this December 1.

I'm frozen to my insensate senses.

 

Yesterday afternoon, in only walking shorts,

On Hollywood Beach's 83-degree sands,

I relaxed under the sun's hide-and-seek rays.

 

My fleece jacket feels thinner than tissue paper.

Linda, at the seashore, by now, beckons me.

My eyes tear up. I tell myself it's just the cold.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                               

12/01/10 - (3)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
       

 

 

 
   
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