Sunday, March 23, 2008


yesterday I delivered a cake to Simm's Landing
a seafood restaurant that looks like a wharf
complete with pilings and ropes
and an invitation to drop anchor and rest
until the storms blow over
something plucked from the coast
and dropped on top of a hill
overlooking the highway and the mountains

and I thought
what is this doing here?
what am I doing here?
Why am I thousands of miles and millions of years
from the ocean
or a wide rolling river
or a lake too big to see across or walk around in an hour
So far from warm gentle soaking rains that last for days
So far from the sea

No surf to rock me
To bring me home to myself
No waves to wash over me
No waves to ride
That exhilarating rush when the power of water catches the surf board
that sensation that wipes out everything
nothing but the wave, the board, the ride
demanding total surrender to the moment
it is lost to me
what am I doing
what am I waiting for
I feel time going by
and I feel myself not really present
not really living

I feel stuck
parched and landlocked
my anchor dropped in an arid landscape
out of my element
far from home

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