Revisited

It was probably the magic of my life in the last week or so,
this clappingTappingDRUMMING that just doesn't quit,
That reminded me.

Probably the conglomeration of long-lost acquaintance, lust, and curtailed camaraderie.
Probably why I started to remember this place.
Somewhere out there.

A place that is heavy at night in the summer, sticky with mosquitoes
Skin that is dried with lake water, and things that smell like fish, beer, BBQ, etc.
Don't bother driving, there is nothing to see. The same level of flat and the same color of yellow. Even the trees don't really know what green is. Coming from Minnesota is nothing like the great P N W.

This week is the taking of the MSP which is Washington state Standardized Testing, the WASL in disguise. Longer and more degrading. I am proctoring individually for students with IEPs, I sit there stupidly
They struggle with inane multiple choice questions, and I am silent as they deflate by the minute.

Staring into space as the child before me grew to hate themselves,
I caught sight of the map of the States adorning the opposite of the rooms wall.

It hit me, Yearning,
The Mighty Mississippi chugging south, framing all states border clear to Louisiana
and O! I could hear Swanee River spiking up all around me-
The Heartland!

My ancestors, transplant Viking farmers growing up into machinist Proud Americans,
Every relative I have lives within miles of every other relative.
I have been to far too many cousins' birthdays weddings and backyard cook-outs.

I think of my teenage summers
of crying making out and waiting for something to HAPPEN.
Beaches board up at night and carpools to nowhere...
4th of July Tom Waits deep in the night
Slow Groggy DRUNK
campfire on my face.

Somewhere out there.

I am startled by the last MSP question 5th Grade Science, which I am reading out loud to my proctoree without taking note of what I am saying.
"Meg wants to take a walk in the evening during a full moon. Which day should she take her walk?"

Mmmmm.
Even the Science of Washington State is intrigued.

I want to lie at the island in a neon muscle shirt,
hear the Loons call and smoke a Marlboro 27,
listen to the giggles of couples wrongly matched.

Stretching out between the grass and sand, the deep scar on my left knee sparkles with the fireflies. I want it all.
There is a rumble of a Toyota with too many bumper stickers, a Twins game has been won(!) and a radio cackles happy(#). Scratchy face. Flannel. Closer and sooner. Beeping of an automated lock. Thudding of secret kind of secret, a song only you and I know the words to. PLANNING. By the light of the full moon,


My love threatens to drown me in the lake.