(untitled)
I remember it well,
a weekend late noon on the peninsula
between Pacific and the marina—
not more than ten years old
and told to go find something to do,
after inquiring sleepwalking adults.
On the bottom step I sat next to the hibiscus
in full bloom, red iridescent from sunlight low,
primary yellow pollen fierce as can be;
watching it jounce in the bluster
of afternoon ocean breeze,
where I wanted to be in control—
and then another moment years hence,
as a twenty-something surfer
at a beach party the same time of day—
stark light, waving flowers, wanting to be in control.
But today, even further years hence
those moments
made themselves known and became me:
walking a shore at the same time
and in the same light, but searching the low tide
for nicely rounded beach glass:
alone, but in control.
