Bright (bright) Bright (bright) Sun-Shiny Day

I like to think of us
on the island
at the same time.

You, a reedy, wild
teenager, sneak off the mainland
to hitch rides and camp
along the Airport Road.

Me, still a kid, sand
in my bathing suit.

I bang around with my sisters
in the wayback
of our mom’s station wagon.
Sing along to Johnny Nash:

“I can see clearly now
the rain is gone.”

We drive through the woods
to meet our father
due to arrive
on the 3 pm plane.

No one knows
it will be the last time
we make this trip.
Or maybe they do.

It’s August.
The island shines
in October.

I wish my mother would
pick up hitchhikers.

I would make room for you
between the squeaky styrofoam cooler
and loud striped beach umbrella.

In the visceral fascia
between summer and fall.

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2 thoughts on “Bright (bright) Bright (bright) Sun-Shiny Day

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