Notes On Pacifica, Calif. - Caroline Warner

Just before sunset, I find myself
hand-in-hand with my beautiful friend
on the brightest slice of coastline
I’ve seen. As the ocean rises,
we are watching the earth breathe.
When we touch water, we are born
all over, falling with open arms
into a fizzing and giggling feeling,
a swelling through the chest.

So perhaps it’s all been worth it:
the spent bus tickets, the red-ringed
eyes in stale office lighting,
and all of the empty cups,
because they’ve all led me here. Because

just rarely enough,
life opens up an alcove
where sunlight is a split-open melon
and your heart is a halved peach.

And it’s such a shame
that we can only take so many
sprints into the current
before salt starts to scrub our skin raw,
and our warmth has been sapped,
and the light begins to hide.
But at the end of the vignette,

I can see this day washing
over me throughout my lifetime –
even as my chest rocks back and forth
like a foreboding tide.

Originally published by Brave Voices 2022

Caroline Warner (she/her) is a writer and editor based in Boston, MA. She holds a B.A. in writing from the University of Vermont. You can find her on Twitter @carolinexwarner.