Bathing in the River

Day 2 of illustrating/blogging one poem a day from Vagabonding, my second poetry book manuscript (from the Vagabonding Anew section).

“Bathing in the River”

Natural Reserve of Mas Larrieu, Argelès-sur-Mer

“It is good to have an end to journey toward, but it is the journey that matters in the end.”
—RIP Ursula K. LeGuin

The water was cold, but I had to wash my hair.
We’d been driving for days, though we weren’t going anywhere.
It was green and sandy, with a reedy forest by the sea—
where a passerby could giggle and squat down for a pee.
You coaxed me in with kisses and the current swept us out.
And it looked the same to you as when your father caught a trout.

The water was cold, but I had to wash my hair.
We’d been driving for days, though we weren’t going anywhere.
And we lay in the sun shivering, and dried—went right back in.
And a stranger with his dog teased us that he saw a fin.
All that stillness, all that shimmering, the water felt like home.
But when we reached the outlet, we couldn’t hold our own.

The water was cold, but I had to wash my hair.
We’d been driving for days, though we weren’t going anywhere.
Next time we’ll sleep nearer to the water, on the shore.
And I’ll ask the handsome stranger with his dog to stay some more.
The water was so cold, I could barely wash my hair,
and the river swept us both out to sea right there.

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