By Marlon Fick
We reach for the smallest things first:
a wing bone from a sea gull, pieces
of kelp that break apart easily.
We hardly notice the afternoon
spreading itself too thinly across the Sound,
making the bright bones dark,
like the dark bones in each finger
of each hand.
I’ve been up late
listening to the steady notes of a ferry
sound and release. It holds on
for a moment and releases, like
your love for me.
I’m standing on the shore, wanting
to see between notes.
You never made me restless.
Perhaps the waves, close and away, remain.
Perhaps, I’m learning that the shore
is never right
and so is always shifting.
And promises are all washed up.
My Wednesday consisted almost entirely of unpacking, doing laundry, putting things away, more laundry, a break to talk to 2/3 of my high school friends while we all ate lunch (the third had just had a covid booster and wasn't feeling well), more laundry, and quite a bit of snuggling cats who alternated between ignoring us and demanding constant attention. We took a walk in the afternoon because the cool weather was too beautiful to neglect. We did some more chores, after which we had soup and grilled cheese for dinner and watched The Masked Singer.
Then we watched this week's What If...?, which had a lot of fight scenes but I really enjoyed it anyway. I liked getting to see a Natasha-and-Clint story in which Natasha makes the decisions, I appreciate after all the recent Tony martyrdom the reminder that Tony almost destroyed the world with his "Peace In Our Time" joke, I appreciated the Terminator and Star Wars jokes and the glimpses of alt-Steve Rogers! And I love that the show isn't just a bunch of one-offs but has an endgame in mind, so to speak. Seahurst Park on Tuesday morning: