[Occasionally I would have to see the sea]

Occasionally I would have to see the sea –
and it wasn’t next door to Montreal.
Sometimes the hunger
would hit in winter –
the need for emptiness –
and I’d rent a car
and drive slowly
on recently-plowed roads
all the way to the coast of Maine.

I still can’t satisfy this thing
in the mountains –
Never really knew why
but I did always know
I’d have to go to the shore,
all the way to the green Atlantic,
and be there, quietly

Sit like a lady
she used to plead
when she’d take me to Schrafft’s –
and I would stand like a lady,
always, as if she were watching,
and although there was never anyone
in sight, I would never feel alone
and after a minute or two
just exercising poise
I would swallow the sky.

Maybe it has to be
on the lip of my ocean
because I can’t get my jaw
around it elsewhere

.

.

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