Swell

I never told you, but I came back.
Stood at the top of the hill and watched
you push the board through wave after wave.

It was chilly. January. You told me to walk
around, see things along the beachfront
while you had your lesson. And I did.

Saw houses. Dolphins, pelicans,
attractive, uninteresting people jogging.
The clouds allowed the light to hit
the coast in selective spasms.
Farther, the experienced surfers
bobbed in lines, staring out
at the Pacific rolling in, hopeful.

Hopeful, I came back.

The instructor waded beside you
but you didn't need her; no
you didn't need anyone, waiting
for the right wave. Eyes focused.

When it comes you're flat
and smiling despite the salt.
It carries you and you hoist
yourself up to your feet, wobbly,
but you've done it, you're up
for a moment.

You fall with grace, or so I imagine
grace to be, as the wave slows on the sand.
You stand again, shake your dark hair and
pump a fist into the sky.

I walk down the hill when the lesson
is about to end. You see me and beam
a smile in front of the dim sun setting.

You change out of the wet suit in the cold air
and I offer my shoulder for balance.

Did you see her? The instructor laughs.

I nod, oddly proud. You wrap a towel
around your waist, ask me to pull the legging.
It falls, then I tug it off each foot with care. Bare
skin goosebumps in the wind.

Back in the car. You change in the backseat.
I'm in the front looking forward. It's getting dark
but you're glowing, radiant. The sun's long set.
You climb into the passenger seat, shaking,
beautiful and beside me again.

Grand Canyon

A plaque said the Colorado
was always the same size,
everything just kept collapsing
around it. Running
for so long, it cuts
deeper and deeper.
Freeze, thaw, freeze.

Stand over there,
you point,
camera in hand.

Water exerts nine tons of pressure
per square inch when it expands into ice,
another plaque reads.

You walk a few feet behind me.
We don't say much.

Rocks crack if they let anything in,
splinter into sediment over time and
are swept away.

Camera clicks. A Korean family
beckons us closer with Please,
and extends their camera to us,
Please.

I rarely see the canyon covered with snow
in pictures. I thought it'd be warm, here,
with you beside me.

The plateau uplifts,
the river scrapes deeper.

Does it make you feel anything?

I let the question hang in the cold air
like a blackbird with wings extended
over the gorge, the great wound.

La Conquistadora

The oldest Madonna on the continent;
They broke her wooden arms
and shaved off her knee
to fit her into their colorful dresses.

Put her on display in a room of her own.
See how they kneel,
the gifts they bring.