DESTINATION: BEAUTIFUL
I’ve come to hunt a time capsule at the west end
of Sunset Boulevard. To rummage the beach for remnants
of old friends who’ve abandoned themselves to sprout
new families. Suddenly everyone has cleaved
to strangers made of diamonds and cake, capable of waving away
whole bruised childhoods—rotten fruits we used to feed
this drooling ocean. Years ago, a friend and I
hiked the Will Rogers trail. We caught a dim rainbow
at the cliff, where he stood and hid
his hands in his pockets. We sucked in the Pacific,
the traffic. We met an elderly man called Timothy—a retired
tour guide who slept in his car with a book of red-letter scripture
seatbelted next to him. I hoped I would die
on that mountain because I thought, that close to God,
it would be a hassle to send me to hell.
In the memory of that day, I am alone. The friend is there—also
alone. He leans from the cliff and scans the city dots
for his beautiful girl. His, now,
wife. Wife. The word bends like a soft
branch in my mouth. I’ve learned not to choke on it
by lying achingly still. The waves reach and reach for me
over the black ocean. The tender white hands of children
petting a large, harmless corpse.
—from Rattle #37, Summer 2012
2013 Neil Postman Award Winner
__________
Eugenia Leigh: “I own a photograph of this moment when my friend stands at the cliff with his back to the rainbow. We’d stopped midway up the Will Rogers trail (in Los Angeles) at a resting area called Inspiration Point. I borrowed the title of this poem, ‘Destination: Beautiful,’ from the title of indie/alternative band Mae’s first album, released in 2003 by Tooth & Nail Records. That album looped in my friend’s Honda Accord that day.” (web)
