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Tybee Island
I've given myself an evening off, so drove from Bluffton, South Carolina to Tybee Island. I wanted to see the ocean. The waves are wild, because another thunderstorm is here. So I've retreated to a seafood restaurant, and I'm having a beer while I watch lightning strike the water.
I feel profoundly alone, but not in a sad way. I sometimes feel like this after a lot of travel, like my body is waiting for my soul to catch up with it. San Diego, Chicago, Atlanta, Augusta, Savannah - a tired litany of airport lounges. I will be exhausted, sitting somewhere, and feel myself softly settle back into my bones.
I look around me at the strangers in their touristy beach outfits and fried fish platters, and I love them. Let the wind blow. I'm here, this is now, I'm alive and free.
Tourists and troubadours, road warriors and vagabonds, raise your beers with me. I am your brother.
the indigo afterimage
of the lightning's flash -
her subtle perfume
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