Popcorn sandals

I wish I were on a beach at midnight
with nothing on my mind
but barracuda and yogurt sauce.
My evenings spent with pirated movies
watched with strangers in the back of a beach bar.
Eating popcorn out of my sandals like Jerry Garcia
and priming to hit on a 19 year old stoned on mushrooms
and just a few steps from the edge.

I wish I had a vacation girlfriend
with a common name
but a unique spelling like “Stefanyi” or “Cyndi”.
My days spent testing the theory that a black hole
will eventually evaporate if filled with enough matter.
Delightful disillusion of overt connection
to the other human debris floating in the space
where life sank beneath the waves.

I wish I lived in a new place
so I could walk alone
but still feel the hope of exploration.
Weeks spent with every untried turn
becoming an adventure into the unfamiliar.
Beloved self deception that witticisms like
“Home is where the heart is” might imply mine
can be found alive and well elsewhere.

-- by Steve McKennon, 1/31/06