Catherine

14

never-never land

I feel as if the seven hour drive
sitting between rats
throwing Cheez-its at each other
in a new to us but preowned Volvo
fueled on ‘80s love ballads
is worth it,
when I can finally stick my toes in the sand.
I like the simplicity of it,
while the boys have to run around screaming,
and splashing in the now icy water.
We don’t have to worry
about disturbing anyone’s
tranquility,
because by the time we get to the Cape,
it’s eight o’clock anyway,
the only people out are surfers,
and by now I think they’re used to
carsick and antsy six year olds.
Written in the sand, is someone’s name,
almost entirely swept away
by footsteps
and baby carriage tire lines,
and just trenches where children would drag their tired feet
when the day was over.
The name was either Christoper
or Christian,
and the C was outlined with shells,
the h with sea softened rocks,
leaving me to guess that the masterpiece
was left unfinished for the rage of the night sea
to devour,
and for C to come back tomorrow and find
gone.