Ocean Ode
Under the fierce August sun and atop a leaning birch tower,
fading paint a streaking white, a girl guards life. Her uniform, a second skin
the color of sweet cherry popsicle melting, dripping, clings
to her as she balances a scalding metal whistle between her teeth
and leans forward, legs dangling over the edge of her seat,
plaited yellow hair scorched pale, surveying the seaside crowd
dotting the endless, soft, glittering sand.
She’s a college student, earning extra cash while she’s home for the summer.
She takes a long swig from her canteen, letting the cold water
run over her lips, chin, neck as it mixes with her sweat-streaked sunscreen.
Nothing hides from the brightness of noon, so she raises her binoculars with a secret smile
and becomes a voyeur of summer – lazy sailboats lounging in the distance,
a chiseled man fishing alone in his skiff,
a naked couple who thinks they’re swimming too far out to be seen.
The ocean, gossamer reflections flickering over blue curls
like those of a temptress beckoning shoregoers to bathe in her infinity, carries gifts to shore.
A green-glass bottle abandoned to the tide. A lost sandal riding its last gentle arc.
Ribbons of kelp like loose silk. And, something else.
Preamble
Model: Four Chinatown Figures by Garrett Hongo
Narrator: Present tense, 3rd person narrator describing one scene from a fixed position that's somewhat distant from the scene, orchestrated as if it were a movie and the narrator is the camera.
Tone: Patient, matter-of-fact, calm | Mood: Intrigue
Posts in this series
Internally Flawless
Panic!
Portrait Study
Discharged
Ocean Ode
Proper Protocol