That Time I Took a Poetry Class

Found

The man was

out of place

He was

wearing long pants in the heat

Walking up and down the beach

Looking

He passed us once

Looking

And twice

Looking

Weaving in

and out of the umbrellas

and sandy children

and greasy adults drinking wine from cans

Back and forth

We call to the man on his next pass

Did he need help? Was he lost? Was there someone he was meeting?

His daughter

But he could not find her

He pulled a well-worn piece of paper from his wallet filled with phone numbers

He pointed to one

We call. She does not answer

We text. She calls back

She is at the beach. And had walked right past us

Off to the right. Down towards the water. She stands and waves her dad over

We are glad that he is found

And sit back under our umbrella. Thinking about our people

And the hope that they would not be left to

Walk up and down the beach

In the wrong clothes

On a hot day

With no phone

All alone

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About nematomorph

Living like the rich and famous, splitting time between Hawaii and New York.
This entry was posted in Aging, family, fear, New York, Parenting, patience, Relationships and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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