Lighthouse

20 minutes before the ambien hits.

Plenty of time to write a bit.

 

All it took was a curtain slightly pulled back.

Oceanfront windows.

 

A night before the full moon.

Her halo glows over the waves.

 

From here it looks like they’re made of clay.

Their dull and steady rhythm.

 

A closer look at the moon won’t hurt.

A quick walk to the ocean should be okay.

 

Down the porch steps.

Cotton red shorts with sun burnt legs to match.

And red cheeks.

And bony red feet.

Bare burnt shoulders adorned with their latest freckles.

 

And just like that the night swallows me up.

 

My palms stretch open.

Phone.

Keys.

Wallet.

Fall to the sand.

 

The ocean insists on reminding me how devastating water can be.

It pulls on my hair. It shoves salt, sand and grit into my lungs.

The wind and waves bully me away from the water.

 

Above us is the obnoxious spectacle herself.

Making all of the fluids on the Earth churn.

Making everyone’s eyes shine.

 

My 20 minutes are overdue.

Bony red feet give out.

 

Up out of the body into the spirit realm.

Leaving her asleep in the sand on the coast.

 

I craved a plunge under the ocean.

This is why I drove the body here.

Wasn’t she a little too tempted by a rock in the sky?

 

I  go deeper onto the ocean floor.

I flow fast past all the spiny pale creatures that the body will never know about.

 

Up out of the ocean on to the other side.

There’s no land in sight.

 

My small lapse in eternity is where a lighthouse stands.

I see all the floating souls in between.

 

Most of the time I stay alone here.

Perched above this ocean overcrowded by wanderers.

 

No one notices when the heavier clouds settle above us.

It takes the thunder ripping through this sky.

 

Then all the wanderers, the lost souls, cling to the tower. Frantic.

They think this is my lighthouse.

No one listens when I try to explain that I don’t belong here either.

 

I choose to come here while the body sleeps.

Trying to help them back onto their path.

So I might remember mine.

 

I wait for another storm to pass.

 

It makes me nervous when you meet my gaze.

I'll remember you from waking life.

 

Someday I’ll see you in the physical realm.

Possibly at a stop light. Bored in a traffic jam.

Or a quick bump to the shoulder at the grocery store.

 

For a moment, I’ll remember what you looked like with the wind and ocean water engulfing your face.

You couldn’t even scream.

I’ll see myself in you.

When your gaze pleaded with me.

Your weight heavy and clumsy.

You reached for me.

For the tower.

For anything.