First published in fourW sixteen in 2005.
Sunday 2nd January, 2005
Even the cap-faced lilo man,
with his three rolls of whale white flab
folding from under his shirt,
is enjoying himself today.
Today everyone is free to be happy.
And even if the memory of another wave rises
with this paddle-pool surge,
even if we know
that every sandcastle, formed
with a son's shovel
and a father's care,
is sure to fall,
even if images
of broken hotels, stunned,
strewn,
inhaling and exhaling,
asleep on the water,
of broken children, sand in their hair,
lying in a row
on pillows
of shadowed morgue plastic
instead of towel
come and go with each foamy fall and retreat,
it was, at least,
a week ago,
and can be put aside.
Today, at least,
these holiday screams
are happy ones.
© Laura Smith 2005
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