Boston Harborside, August 26th
For Nize, Dulce, and Jarod
Somewhere in that domain of blue,
Across the sound,
A jet is landing to take me home.
The flutter of nylon in the wind,
The scent of lemon brine
The smiles of well-heeled WASPs,
The bobbing lobster floats
The happiness of families
Dressed up for summer nights,
The welling anticipation of lovers,
The therapy of women talk,
The baseball caps reversed and telling jokes,
And rich mens’ launches which dart across the bay
Like screensavers to my thoughts,
So now absorbed and lost in all of this,
I leave the mobile-me upon a bench.
Life pauses and then a transformation:
I leave reflection to realization and panic
And then with staccato heartbeat
Comes the brittle face of loss,
I glance the time – compute the options.
From nowhere yet apparent,
A thunderbolt command says ring your number
I finger tones, anticipate the rhythmic loop
And fast, a friendly voice speaks in my hand
‘We’ve found your phone….’
Across the room, three faces wave at me….
And soon I’m leaving:
My smile and thanks I’m leaving here with you.