By: Alison Gittelman
Otherwise known as
You lay out your picnics like an elegant buffet.
Giant bags of snacks reveal a hunger that cannot be satiated by
This is the devour hour.
Pauses long enough for me to begin.
Then stop, as a chip bag is opened.
The noise rises, an approaching train
That cannot be stopped
I stand on the tracks.
And, like the calm after the storm
You listen and discuss and think and
I am a wave
You are surfers
Dipping and diving
For the crash.
Then you pick up your boards and surf the next one.
When it’s over
And the sea is calm
And the train has left
I straighten the desks
And I know that, next year
I will be a surferless wave.
And I will stand on the tracks