Born in Kansas
I remember being glad to learn
just before I turned thirty
that sea tides come and go
not one but
two times each day

Now thirty-seven years later
waves heaving toward the shore
warm ocean, gleaming sun
breeze stiff and cooling
constant drone of tumbling white

When I say “born in Kansas”
they recoil, “tornado”
on their lips
I’m drawn to the sea
but fearfully

Cinema scenes loom
desert island stranding
shark fin racing
stinging, scorching
everywhere the unknown

Fear doesn’t care
attaches to whatever’s
near
still drawn
to the sea