surface

For a place I've never been
before, it was so vivid. But
the visualization was wrong.
In real life, there are more
angles to it. In my dream,
the structures holding up
the bridge were massive, round
pillars, like the California trees
that are impossible to wrap
your arms around. I saw them
while falling -- crippled down
to the sand, dragging my legs
like they were broken. Scrambling
up the embankment, from what
I feared surfacing.
Was it here?
I had tried to tell him why
I couldn't stay.
It was too much raw pain and
the sun goes down. Hysterical,
I confessed how it made me
sick, and saw how they couldn't respond.

I was a contestant. I first
saw the bridge from a hotel
room. Other women and I
were supposed to line up
along a window that swallowed
the entire wall, to be sent off
to the bay. I said I couldn't go, there
was miscommunication. So,
I walked down to the shore,
pulling my hood to block
the sight. I caught accidental
glimpses and swore I could
vomit in the weightless sand
I had buried. The sand that
anchors. I made my way through
the waves to try to tell him why
I couldn't stay