I wasn't like my teenage girlfriends. I didn't want to lay around the sand and get a darker tan or sit and watch the guys..although I did keep an eye out for the cute ones. I loved to walk and walk and walk. Something about the ocean front that just made me want to wander. Always keeping my eye out for seaglass and shells or a pretty rock. Listening to the gulls cry and the waves crash. That salty smell of the ocean..sand in my toes..breeze in my hair. Oh I love the beach I do..miss living so close. Funny..I still got a wonderful tan and had fun at the same time.
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Rusty salt barnacling my car
arriving back at base
after a long-awaited anchor drop
far away from the bay that I hated with all of me
now craving the odd comfort of naval air in my lungs.
It felt like forever
gasping for oxygen, and light, in the tunnel
Stuck in traffic with pants bunched up to my knees,
heavy black boots off, fuel-stained t-shirt cut short above the belly button
and sizzling summer sweat - wet and miserable
Anxious to exchange oily uniform for crisp bathing suit and salty sandals
Parallel to the boardwalk ran my favorite street
Sand, splinters and scorching sun spots litter the wooden-planked sidewalks
my bare feet immune to the dangers,
though I tried to avoid drips documenting ice cream accidents
(sticky toes are a menace).
Spending money excessively because I despised who I was,
where I wasn't and the commitment I had made without much thought.
Happiness was unfathomable, but I had to buy the next best possible product.
Only one breakdown a week, and a forced smile on a good stretch.
Friends aplenty to try to convince that this really wasn't me
My spirit back in Massachusetts aching to be reunited with my suntanned body.
Now, back at the ranch...
Bricks are being stacked on my chest and I am struggling to breathe freely
Could it be possible that I made the greatest mistake twice?
I wonder often if the second time may have been a fraction greater.
My most substantial accomplishment has been surrendered to the sea -
Left behind, on a massive ship.
I have been decommissioned
only to be left with mothball regrets
and superficial satisfaction.
I wasn't like my teenage girlfriends. I didn't want to lay around the sand and get a darker tan or sit and watch the guys..although I did keep an eye out for the cute ones. I loved to walk and walk and walk. Something about the ocean front that just made me want to wander. Always keeping my eye out for seaglass and shells or a pretty rock. Listening to the gulls cry and the waves crash. That salty smell of the ocean..sand in my toes..breeze in my hair. Oh I love the beach I do..miss living so close. Funny..I still got a wonderful tan and had fun at the same time.
We didn't go away often when we were kids, but we do remember that beach trip. I can still see Dad wearing those bright, plaid shorts. I can hear Mom's voice as she calls us away from the surf. For a bunch of kids from the Bronx, we really became beach bums for that week in 1977. I can almost remember the feel of the sand on my legs as my brother tried to bury me in the sand. He was only 4 years old, so I happily only had to deal with a thin layer of sand on my legs. I can still remember his triumphant announcement, "Big sister is going anywhere!"
Quick correction for the last line: "Big sister isn't going anywhere!"
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