PREFACE
This poem came to me as I was thinking about transitional moments and how it feels like the integration of our selves is taking place elsewhere.
HOMECOMING
(Very Rough Draft)
It is a difficult time. So
You wait for yourself to come back.
You wait on the
Pier. Watch pelicans
Periwet in the air; weightless
For a moment and then diving.
The sound of their splash reminding
You of something you just can’t quite
Remember. You sit there eating
Fish after fish, wash them
Down with beer. You have started
Counting seagulls and giving them
Long Spanish names. You choreograph
Ballets, make architectural
Drawings of dreams and have started
To build a home of sea shells. On
The weekends people come just to
See you waiting for yourself. “Where
Did you go?” they ask, you just shrug
Your shoulders. You make new friends.
You take up painting and paint self
Portraits, your image repeated
Like the latitude and longitude
Lines on a map. Early every
Morning you lean against the railing.
The seagulls have joined you. You’ve made
Them tiny red scarves that they
All wear. All of you stare, being
Still as glass as if any movement
Might blur vision. All of you are
Staring out to sea, straining to
See you coming back, straining to
See the prow of the boat cutting
The silver morning water.
