Band Trip
On a Friday afternoon in May I visited New York City for the
first time.
I was in tenth grade.
After winding through the streets for hours, caught up by the
crowd, we landed back near Central Park and the fountain.
The sky had now darkened and with a whoosh! – Rain began
soaking us.
Patti, my best friend, and I read teen romance novels while
waiting for the bus, wet but laughing.
For New York, that day blended into a thousand similar days.
As we climbed onto the school bus, they left their towers for
home, for the weekend.
That night we stayed up late eating candy at our hotel.
In the distance, the city lit up the sky. Waiting.
11/7/01
Riding the Raptor
A few years ago we were at an amusement park about to ride one of
those roller coasters that flip you upside-down.
I saw a group of Arab men waiting in line with us.
They were whispering and looking up at the track, pointing.
They did not smile.
This fear washed over me and for a moment, it was all clear.
They were going to blow the whole thing up. There was a bomb on
there.
I whispered this to Dan, who didn’t even entertain a laugh.
He was miffed at my snap judgments.
Still I felt this panic. I didn’t want to ride.
They were waiting for it to explode. I just knew it.
Dan made me get on. Some of them rode with us.
It was the best roller coaster ride I’d ever had.
Getting off, legs wobbling, I laughed sheepishly at my
imagination.
It was so silly, really.
What had I been thinking?
11/9/01
Last Summer Days
Camping 8/17/01
There are bears in the woods, everyone here keeps saying.
Night closes all around, but we huddle in front of the crackling
light, the heat slapping our faces as we tell stories. My
marshmallow's on fire. I wait, then let the sugary goo dissolve
in my mouth. Move just a step away from the fire and it's much
darker, much cooler. Stay where we are and bake. We choose to
bake and talk and kick at the sand with our toes and toss pebbles
into the trees to scare whatever may be hiding there.
Maine 8/21/01
We turn off the car and roll the windows down. Evening
arrives early in this place where the trees rise and hide the
sky. Everyone should do this: stop and listen. There are chirps
and hums that swell and subside. Outside is alive. The air has
that warm, sweet smell that permeates when the sun goes down --
of grass, and shade, and of green and mysterious things.
Corn Maze 9/3/01
In this other world there is nothing but green on all sides,
hay paths at our feet and the blue of the sky if we look straight
up. We've been walking and turning and searching, pushing through
the stalks. Sweat trickles on my temples. I long for water.
Outside now is muffled, like a dream. I don't miss it much. It's
been so long since I've played a game. Maybe I'll wander in here
until the sun goes down, until I sink to my knees and someone has
to find me. I'm in a corn maze. There are dozens of passages;
scores of wrong turns. My sneakers are dirty. The sun is too
bright. I love this place.