Thinking of a Girl
Nearly Lost at Sea
.
Long Island Sound, summer of ’65.
Father growing gills from emphysema,
long-legged brother frowning
over minutiae in tidal pools
I lay on the beach
In my stretched out beige
one-piece bathing suit
.
Sweet sixteen and yearning
Rolling Stones throbbing
Hey, You– Get Offa My Cloud
from my state of the art
transistor radio
.
Sand in my eyes.
Mother back in the loaned house
drinking, in a scotch-rage
swearing on the phone
at our hosts, our uncle,
.
Mother, blob of protoplasm
passed out in a wingback chair
cigarette burns on Aunt Mary’s
hardwood floor, her Karistan
carpet. Mother waking,
incontinent
.
Screams at the daughter
and she goes down
to the end of Lawton Drive
where the Sound
plunges and plays.
The ocean, calling
Her name on the wind,
lapping at the rocks at midnight
.
Dive in, come with me, come away
Give up, let go, no more tears.
,
She talks herself back
from the huge green/black wave
kissing her toes
promising oblivion
guaranteeing delirium:
.
It would be folly now
in the midst of this long
swan dive, our “vacation”-
We trudge on, we flail
We are all about try;
.
He did climb all the way up
to the crown in the Statue of Liberty
we did take the Staten Island Ferry
to see how the immigrants felt
She did take me to the New York Times
sixteen, clutching a folder of clips
.
Step back, shrink back
don’t let it suck you in
like the brave girl
Alone in the long night
of the Indian Ocean
broken boat and a teddy bear:
.
Your father’s nuts
to let you go out there
mine lets me
hang from the rigging:
he kisses me
and we go out to sea:
.
The waves crash and cry
birds in the dark, arcing
flash of wings
almost. I almost gave in, then
turned, ran back
my wet hand-me-down dress
slapping my legs.
Loquaciously Yours 
The images so vividly convey the dramatic narrative, the impression of sea as both escape (“The ocean, calling / Her name on the wind…/… give up, let go….”) and memory-maker/-holder, the sense of being totally exposed (“hang from the rigging”) and also alone, and that use of “almost” well-placed for the turning.
Thanks, Maureen– it’s still fresh but I liked it; we were talking about the sailor-girls last night and I think my family’s summer in Madison was on my mind—xxxj
Please visit award-winning, published writer Jenne’ Andrews ‘ new WordPress blog at http://www.loquaciouslyyours.com . Click the “comment” link at the bottom of any post, and sign up to receive an e-mail flash of new content.
Nice image of the sea calling you. You paint a picture of a day of vacation in very few lines. Again, you make it look easy. What can I say? You’re gifted. That’s all there is to it.
Well, I didn’t ask to be “gifted”– but thank you. You are just as gifted and I hope you take the laptop out of the trash bag and fire it up. The sand is running through the glass…..xj
Please visit award-winning, published writer Jenne’ Andrews ‘ new WordPress blog at http://www.loquaciouslyyours.com . Click the “comment” link at the bottom of any post, and sign up to receive an e-mail flash of new content.
Madison, Connecticut? That’s 15 minutes from my home.
Yes– my uncle was head planner for south central Ct– Norris Andrews; he and my father were Yalies– and we stayed in his beach house that summer. Did I say it was Madison, or did you guess? xxxj
Please visit award-winning, published writer Jenne’ Andrews ‘ new WordPress blog at http://www.loquaciouslyyours.com . Click the “comment” link at the bottom of any post, and sign up to receive an e-mail flash of new content.
And I remember many a hot summer day by the Sound, stretched out with our transistors going, WABC out of New York…smoking Marlboro Reds and the smell of baby oil, all girled up and thinking about giving the boys some trouble later that night…
No, didn’t guess, you said it was Madison.
The very last two lines of this poem have stayed with me.
I want to comfort the “brave girl.” Very powerful memories and they break my heart.
very sweet and kind of you Gerry– thank you…xxxxj
Please visit award-winning, published writer Jenne’ Andrews ‘ new WordPress blog at http://www.loquaciouslyyours.com . Click the “comment” link at the bottom of any post, and sign up to receive an e-mail flash of new content.
Love it Jenne, thanks for sharing!!!
Thanks, Ginster– and thank you for your terrific blog! xj