#capecod
Long car ride crushed in the back middle seat
Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds playing on the radio
Sea air letting us know we were getting closer
Sand slowly replacing the grass along the highway
The excitement of reaching dangerous Suicide Alley
And turning up Sloop John B when it finally comes on
I remember it all so clearly as if this morning
A happy family on their yearly odyssey to the beach
Growing boys unknowing the trials that lay ahead
That these innocent times could never truly last
Take me to Nauset, my favorite lighthouse
And live through paintings that will never be added to
As each summer slowly trickles the souls in the car
Dwindling and diminishing to an inevitable end
And then renewed as a new core grows
As I introduce new lives to the majestic Highland
And round the large hook passed by Pilgrims
Brave the breaks, cracks, and scars of a full life
Pick yourself up, dust yourself off one more time
Make the trek you know like the back of your hand
One less in the car, one more to come someday
Dec 4, 2019
Dec 4, 2019 at 4:47 PM UTC
time's past experience
escaped the general
present on my condition.
impressed, expressing itself
across my countenance
to the perpetual stiffness
of cape cod
upon the horizon of fall.
the ceiling, blended light spectrum.
ceaseless blowing
twine each direction.
enmity, inviting intrepid to traveler none.
quiet prolonged so to take up its own place.
sudden sensing singular
without companion
as the earth comes undone.
absent the orb - one's inward sun.
by the devil's eve
all warmth be shunned.
Oct 1, 2017
Oct 1, 2017 at 8:09 PM UTC
whenever I return
to the Cape, and am
kissed by the salty breeze
I realize that I left
a piece of myself
on the rocky beach
the Cape belongs to
the young girl who
wouldn't have her
freckles if it wasn't for
the August sun
the girl who pretended
to be a mermaid trapped
in the pool, trying to find her
way home, to the ocean
the Cape belongs to
the young woman who
wasn't comfortable in
her own skin, and
covered up
the woman who learned
that dusk was her favorite
time to visit the beach,
with ice cream in her hand
and her toes in the sand
Every year, I have less and less
time to return here,
but every time I do I see them
They are in awe of me
So alike, so different
The sun hasn't stopped
scattering me with freckles
Especially now,
I no longer hide my skin
And though I don't pretend,
I still wish I was a mermaid
Even though I don't visit enough,
With every trip I find myself
On the beach, at dusk
With my toes in the sand,
and ice cream on my lips,
I realize,
A part of my soul
will always be here
Jun 4, 2017
Jun 4, 2017 at 11:33 PM UTC
the Cape is a place
where time stops,
and all that moves
are the waves and breezes,
bicycle wheels and boats
Jun 4, 2017
Jun 4, 2017 at 11:18 PM UTC
The woman sticks her head out the window
and breathes in heavy air,
fog swimming down her throat into
unsettled stomach. Grumbles and groans
under the weight of morning dew. She can almost
taste the grass from here, imagine the way
it blows in a breeze she hasn’t felt in years.
It used to move her, slide her hair down her
back and now she always wears it up, those
bright red locks tied away where no one can ever
find them. Wet hands glide across glass pane and it is only
now that she realizes her head feels a little too heavy
on her neck. Necklace throbs
against collarbone and maybe
it’s the loneliness, she thinks, the desperate
way she hears the birds chirping
in some unknown distance and she wonders
what it would feel like to move.
She takes a step
away from the window.
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 3:26 PM UTC