The Tide

Has turned frothy and brought in the remains of air, sea and land.

Dirty froth – toothpaste washing out the screams, the belligerent sobs of all the first peoples and all the second peoples and the settlers and their children.

I have my smoke with Tommy.  We kick salty stones back in, we look at the clouds and we relax.

There are two small groups of college students who have camped on the beach. A girl wakes and walks from one tent to the other.
Froth. Shells, algae, god know what she’s done. The sea.

Her long blonde wavy hair catches salt and wind. Loses its softness. The girl.

A piece of tail fish catches in the algae on land. Flip flops to death and sparkles in the sun.

I asked grandpa nicely to hire Tommy this summer since he couldn’t get no job in town.

“You got some good stock coming in this year”

“Good steaks good?”
He laughs and pulls me in close. He has that cowboy charm but he’s actually not very good looking. He has a snaggle tooth but he’s got the sparkle in his eye. We drove to SD in good weather for a few days out to get grandma from her annual California visit good for the aches shakes and breaks. 

The ranch has been lonely with mama and daddy preparing for their move to New England.

I have hung around though. Gotten the eggs in the early bright morning. Made coffee in the outside kitchen.

Tommy sleeps in the guest house adjacent the main gardens. I can see him fall asleep from my bedroom window. Grandpa is old fashioned southern. Boys sleep away from girls.

I have been waking Tommy every morning at 4am or so. We take the horses out into the rusty red fields that are covered in the blackest of black. Snakes hiss in and out of sand pits.

We ride in the dark until we bring morning across.

Apollo.

Oh but Orpheus what is this longing? What is this love?

We really feel we bring morning to earth and we laugh unexpectedly. We do not become upset, our bones do not hurt and we have no earthly possessions.

We talk about growing up and going to college and writing letters to each other and comin’ out to ride like we do now.

“Right honey?” Paul is smiling his presidential smile across the breakfast table at the Waldorf. We have announced our engagement.

I look lost and all of a sudden anger flashes his face and I don’t see Orpheus. What is this love?

“We are going riding tomorrow with mother and I was telling our family you can show us how to ride. Growing up in the wild west and all”

Laughter

I clutch the reins very hard. I am riding English in the middle of the wild west. But grandpa says before we mixed with them natives we was pure English stock.

To grandpa, we are all stock. So we ride English.

I want to hold the horn. Not to keep from falling but to let go. I want to let go and trust the movement. I don’t let go. Without holding on, I don’t let go. Rhythm. I hear my breathing. I smell leather and Misha’s mane. She is so beautiful. My arms are cut up and coarse and I can hear is my breathing.

I hear Tommy yell let go and I do. I kiss the air and Misha goes fastest. What is this longing? What is this love?

I want to fall off my horse and I do. I take a handful of dirt in my mouth, one rib breaks. I love this earth.

Adam toiling under the sun. I am a ship hitting earth. Hitting soil. I get up. I ride my horse back to the ranch.

It all continues.

“Yes of course. I love riding”

Paul looks so pleased. I love him so much. We are not very far off from the place where we met. The terrace, the mustard yellows, the music, the birds.

Our stock survives us. I will leave behind mixed stock.

Rising from the earth, falling to it, raising to the sky, falling from it.

The earth has turned and mixed. Bringing in the remains of air, sea, and land.