Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Sand Hill Prose
One by one, lunches collect in the trunk,
Check: water, sunscreen, and jacket.
Parents hastily sign off the place and the time,
But press gratitude and envy into goodbyes.
Awake and fresh eyes in the snap of the air
“Look what I brought! When will we get there?”
Unsolicited, my back seat is filled
With stories, and newscasts, out
The window on the world.
“That’s a cool car.”
“Have you heard the one about….?”
“I can show you KVEC.”
“I like those houses looking out at the sea.”
Highway gives way to campground,
Campground gives way to trail.
Pavement disappears into sandy ramp,
Vehicle-packed beach yields to soft dunes.
In a heartbeat, they peak the summit,
Board in hand, and wax on board.
With his first attempt the expert slips,
Careening and rolling to a sandy landing.
First novice, seated, sleds safely forward
Only to nose-dive through his cresting wave
In a high-speed shower of eye burning, mouth grinding, dirt.
“Don’t be a pessimisium, you won’t hurt yourself!”
“Someone please rinse my eyeballs, I can’t see a thing.”
“I did the splits, and have sand where the sun never shines.”
“Why is my unbuttoned pocket the only one without sand in it?”
The most difficult initiate becomes the most enduring rider,
Unable to return home without just one more (masterful) turn,
Smoothly shifting his seat, leaning back, feet ahead,
Board-tip rising, accelerating down without a wake.
The reward, along with a shoe-full of sand:
“My tongue is going to show this ice cream no mercy!
But next time, can we make it longer?”
…And nostril-cleaning all the way home.