Something Different | LARAE J. MAYS-HARDY

Something Different

poetry by LARAE J. MAYS-HARDY 09.23.2020

I kept my promise. The raspy whisper pleading me to go to the beach at 8:37pm. The tugging at my small intestine dragging me to Ocean Beach past curfew. I kept the promise to myself. To meet the salt water healer. Commune with silence for the first time in weeks. Inflate these bones once again. I kept that promise, at least.

I got lost on the way. Drove alongside my destination, and insanity, for an hour amidst the fog. Prayed my strength in navigation and license on the dashboard. I have trouble driving in the dark, although I know her better than anyone else. Parking lots capturing steering wheel regrets. Sand spilling over its bounds, drifting far from home. I couldn’t find the right place to be.

I messaged my girlfriend. She’s not my girlfriend, but that’s all language gifted me with for description. Subjected myself to a chortle behind the screen. I asked someone for help. Baited my breath for heartside assistance. Brewing up the courage to find where we stand. I charged my iPhone 6 with carrying intentions across the bay.

Got to the beach at 10 past too late Brought a tupperware for my thoughts Sat beneath the graffiti sun rays at the cusp of the stairs Removed my shoes in homage of this shoreline sanctuary A deep breath buoys the remains of my spirits Deep breath be gateway to stillness Breath to take advantage of Arrived here for the second mourning sunrise in a month Couldn’t help the writing paralysis from setting in

Thought this may be the final night vigil waveside Got to hold a moment before the sirens reset

I checked my phone. Hoped the message drought was spawned by a service break. Noted her playful presence. I hadn’t seen her contact flash in a few days. Missing an outstretched word. Photographed a sequined vote sign to replace the longing. I wanted her to text me back.

I didn’t get lost on the way back. Odometer clued me to the miles that weren’t returning. Buzzing engine signaling a falling action. I made it home in ten minutes. Jacked up my security blanket. Emergency breaking for the backsliding. I effortlessly found my apartment.

I moved here for this. Relocated to the other side of the world. Braved deadly conditions and airline pleasantries. I moved clouded by a global crisis. For sandy bottom imprints at a makeshift altar. For uncomplicated drives to cook up my newest pieces. For upholding promises to my inner child. I moved here for something different.

whatever you do, do not feed the ducks, CLAUD YASMIN