I churned this one out on my commute from Chicago to Boston today, but the idea of it has been brewing in my head for a few weeks.
Enjoy!
--
The sliding door to my 14th floor balcony was
cracked open
and the humidity of the evening air was heavy,
filling the room like invisible smoke breathing down my neck.
I could hear the restless Atlantic just a few hundred feet away
masked by the sound of a departing jet thundering into the black abyss above
and the occasional giddy laugh of a girl who has had
one too many vodka y jugo de chinas to drink.
As the clock passed midnight, the intoxicated laughter gave way
to waves brushing the sandy shores and sweeping away
remnants of sand castles that once stood tall in the spots
where only memories of towers and sand pales remain.
A text message vibrated on the pillow
telling me to meet him on the beach.
It was an easy decision to make because the sound of the water
under the deep night sky
brings me to a spiritual place
where I remember the crashing waves
along the southern coast of India and the faint smell of
sandalwood incense burning
as the evening prayers were chanted.
Laying on the beach there is nobody around and nothing to see
but the glow of the city reflecting off the ocean
and the crescent moon illuminating a cloud
we’ve likened to a greedy monster ready to attack.
He points to the figurative arm of the unnamed cloud alien
and I’m caught off guard when he lowers his hand onto mine
in a way that was coy but intentional
as if he needed to test the water before jumping in.
It should have been every bit exhilarating as romantic
but in retrospect it was neither.
It was the awkward exchange of two souls misunderstanding
what romance is and could be
for the comfort of companionship in a place
thousands of miles away from home.
And that was perfectly okay, too, because it was, after all,
late in the evening and we both had long days of work
waiting for us in just a few short hours.
Still yet, I wanted to kiss him.
Actually, I wanted him to kiss me.
Who doesn’t want to feel wanted?
The cloud monster passed,
offering a clearing in the night sky where
two or three shooting stars
reminded me that in this world I should never
feel small, but instead,
and the humidity of the evening air was heavy,
filling the room like invisible smoke breathing down my neck.
I could hear the restless Atlantic just a few hundred feet away
masked by the sound of a departing jet thundering into the black abyss above
and the occasional giddy laugh of a girl who has had
one too many vodka y jugo de chinas to drink.
As the clock passed midnight, the intoxicated laughter gave way
to waves brushing the sandy shores and sweeping away
remnants of sand castles that once stood tall in the spots
where only memories of towers and sand pales remain.
A text message vibrated on the pillow
telling me to meet him on the beach.
It was an easy decision to make because the sound of the water
under the deep night sky
brings me to a spiritual place
where I remember the crashing waves
along the southern coast of India and the faint smell of
sandalwood incense burning
as the evening prayers were chanted.
Laying on the beach there is nobody around and nothing to see
but the glow of the city reflecting off the ocean
and the crescent moon illuminating a cloud
we’ve likened to a greedy monster ready to attack.
He points to the figurative arm of the unnamed cloud alien
and I’m caught off guard when he lowers his hand onto mine
in a way that was coy but intentional
as if he needed to test the water before jumping in.
It should have been every bit exhilarating as romantic
but in retrospect it was neither.
It was the awkward exchange of two souls misunderstanding
what romance is and could be
for the comfort of companionship in a place
thousands of miles away from home.
And that was perfectly okay, too, because it was, after all,
late in the evening and we both had long days of work
waiting for us in just a few short hours.
Still yet, I wanted to kiss him.
Actually, I wanted him to kiss me.
Who doesn’t want to feel wanted?
The cloud monster passed,
offering a clearing in the night sky where
two or three shooting stars
reminded me that in this world I should never
feel small, but instead,
feel big because those stars
are where I came from and are
in every way
me.
I looked at my friend in the eyes and saw
the reflection of the sky in them
and as we locked our lips under the moonlight
I realized that in the right light
I could see the stars in anybody’s eyes
as long as I was standing at the right angle.
are where I came from and are
in every way
me.
I looked at my friend in the eyes and saw
the reflection of the sky in them
and as we locked our lips under the moonlight
I realized that in the right light
I could see the stars in anybody’s eyes
as long as I was standing at the right angle.
I knew then that home could be found in any one of us
so long as I was willing to keep the door open.
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