Poetry |

“Odd Facts of Cape Cod in Judgment Time”

Odd Facts of Cape Cod in Judgment Time

 

Scrub pine forest

where I hope we do not

get ticks

with 15,000 year-old freshwater ponds

sand-bottomed,

and woods where your foot

pokes through

black crust soil

to sand, Massachusetts

weirdness, I love it.

I am like that dog

who stares all day

into the dinghy with no bottom

because it is a television

for fish or a water bowl

or a television for fish

and a water bowl, bonus.

I don’t even know

one camper from another,

whacked bivouac

in a go-to-hell time,

go-to-hell time

for everybody, especially

around the lighthouse

by the tennis club.

 

Birdie’s tough,

Sabrina says. She can handle it.

And then. Looks

beat up now, but

the house is well made.

We don’t know

the Greek Revival

columns at night

would be lemon and lime pops

in the morning sun, one dude

with dreadlocks

and beard has been

going here since

his grandfather was born,

unhappy whiskey

look around his eyes,

like a first Friday

someplace socially awful,

and the tennis blush

and clothes hang a certain

way on the boney-butted

frames of the blondes

and greying men

around whose sleep

seals blow yap-sized

bubbles that explode

around their tabby-print

sportier patterns

when seals are real

for shark food,

flippers like hands

and feet but not legs

or arms, but

 

who the hell

is Birdie, Sabrina?

I just made that up. You see

what happens when we

really watch. End up

looking at Brett Kavanaugh’s wife

in her struggle to keep lips

from staying open

retrofitted, social X-rays

behind him in committee

because the plastic surgeon

gave one too many cranks

to the gears of the machine.    

Then towns fill with fog

and cellphones in fog

and people in sweatshirts

that say Chatham

because they are on it.

 

Throwbacks, the reality

strays from appearance.

Hyannis, for instance,

actually gets located

on Waze and better apps

in southeastern Ohio, the horns

of the ferries

piped in. Let’s pretend

we are near the beach,

and the tennis club

seems run

by the kids from Scooby Doo,

even that scowling scion

with that burlap poncho

looking at the social contract

to stay thin man-boys

and bone ladies. I meet

a guy on the morning beach.

Great to be up here from Norfolk

where it is hot as hail down there now.

Contributor
David Blair

David Blair is the author of four books of poetry and a collection of essays. His latest book of poetry is Barbarian Seasons from MadHat Press which also published Walk Around: Essays on Poetry and Place.

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