an ode to bigfoot the haynie -
wind twisted my
hair into spools of thread.
my sunglasses sat far down
on my nose, but my fingers were
firm on the steering wheel.
i could feel you watching me as i
stood up on the foot bar, peering
out from the channel for any
oncoming traffic.
we reached open water, our
haynie rocking through the
wake of vikings, grady-whites.
our bathing suits were going to
leave us amazing tans, and we
hadn’t even reapplied our
oil yet.
dr. peppers and root beers
filed our cooler to the brim,
making it challenging
(but not impossible)
for the two of us girls to
carry it to the island
once we anchored.
barges and tankers were the
only disruption to the
hours we spent lounging in the
water, umbrellas shading us,
the boat becoming full with
abandoned hermit crab shells and
empty soda cans.
the tide rushed back and forth,
ricocheting off of the opposite shoreline,
providing us with crabs and
beached fish to rescue or
run away from.
and at the end of the day,
when the cooler was empty,
the sun was setting, and we were
hungry enough to eat the seagulls,
we drove back,
stopping to stroke the
occasional dolphin, and then
prepared ourselves to do it
all again tomorrow.
i can’t remember the
last time i
surfed the waves of
port aransas beach and
didn’t get choked up when
it came time to leave.