MIDNIGHT WANDERINGS

Thursday, August 20/Saturday, August 22, 2009


MIDNIGHT WANDERINGS

By Philip Cairns

Copyright 2009 by Philip Cairns


Standing ten feet away from the tides slapping against the sand.
I love the sound.
Warm, sticky summer night.
Remembering the hard rocks beside the sea at Nice.
The cool, strong winds.

Wish I were somewhere else.
A hot beach in Tahiti.
Venice or Paris.
Anywhere but here,
Where jealous, penny-pinching quasi-friends betray you.
Where former buddies tell salty lies stinking of revenge.

If I close my eyes, I can pretend I’m far away.
I’m Deborah Kerr in “From Here to Eternity”
Committing lovely adultery on the beach,
With Burt Lancaster in a tight black bathing suit
Showing the world what religion he is not.
The lapping of the waves stirs the mind and nourishes my soul.
I can try to forget my tiny troubles and ponder how life could be.

The lights shimmer on the lake, as if they were dancing.
The streetlight illuminates the white of the water.
The lapping sound of the waves repeats and repeats.
It’s comforting and healing,
Soothing the reoccurring melancholy.

The boats all look to be asleep.
No lights coming from any of them,
As they gently rock back and forth.
Sometimes the tides sound angry
And other times more calm and relaxed.
I’m carried away to other places
Where trouble no longer exists.

Maybe, in the morning, things will be better.
This lagoon is my own private hiding place
In a city full of terror and gloom.
I long for escape.

Further on, past the Palais Royale,
The Boardwalk has been torn up,
Replaced by wet sand.
There are no cars in the parking lot
Or people on the beach.
Only one man passes me as I stroll along in the dark.

A great glob of cement-like emotion is trapped in my chest.
The tides speak to me in inexplicable ways.
I turn around and head for home,
Walking quickly along the deserted bicycle path.
The empty feeling inside haunts me as I briskly make my way East.