The Fog on Cape Cod

The Fog on Cape Cod

September 2012

Some days the tide goes out so far you have to wonder if the ocean may ever come back.

All that remains are the clamshells and stench of rotting seaweed, the sandy floor a silpat stewing.

Cradled in an Adirondack chair and clinging to the last rays of Tuesday, knowing far too well that Wednesday will herald the end of one season and the beginning of another.

Yet, where I’m going there will be no marked change.

There will be apples and pumpkins and rhubarb, but the trees will still be wrought with leaves.

Only the remnants of baseball moving into football season will need raking.

And somewhere between the 7th inning stretch and halftime I’ll find myself asking where did summer go?

So many things I didn’t get to do before the autumn thrusts its comforters and afghans on me at night.

Not nearly enough corn on the cob or lobster rolls.

Too few the number of times I jumped in the ocean, naked or otherwise, keenly feeling the scratch of dried salt between my thighs.

One more bonfire away from being truly warmed.

Don’t make me put on pants, please!

Allow me the courtship between my legs and the Atlantic breeze.

There’s still time for banjos and claw hammers and washboards to sing out at sunset, putting the sun to bed and summoning the moon to fill the harbor with her brilliance.

The echo of giggles so sinful they could only live in the space between communion wafers.

My sex takes on a maternal heaviness that begins to weigh me down.

I can feel the apathy of the leaves realizing they will just do it again next year, for as much as I try to reason with them.

Next year could very well be different!

What if coulottes come back into style?

What if the best we get is a never-ending SoundCloud remix of Nicki Minaj for a soundtrack?

What if there aren’t enough oysters to go around?


But we can’t think like that.

As long as someone is willing to get up that early, there will be sunrise strong enough to burn through the Cape Cod fog.

The tide will come back in when we least expect it.