And what would I have done if I
saw Tracie on the beach today?
Walk up to her and say, “Funny
meeting you here.”
We would walk one-by-one toward
the sun setting and then head back
toward my car.
She would be at the Sheraton
wiping me out etch-a-sketch style,
or like how the water wipes out
a hole in the sand, but usually
it takes several tries because
there’s always something left after
the first few times.

We would get to my car, the last
four years passed between us, and by
then she would have confirmed that the
guy with whom she was traveling
was her boyfriend.
I’d have a few moment’s feeling
of superiority’s swell,
a few moments.

She would need to walk back to the
hotel because so-and-so would
be waiting and nervous because
he’d know who I was but he’d be
a great guy so he’d let her walk
with me alone and at sunset.
I’d walk her back and by this time
we’d be talking of the irony
of the situation and she’d
be saying that she thought something
like this might happen and she would
say that it was good that it did,
yes, good for her.
“Wow! I’m so glad you’re doing well, Eddie.”
She would have forgiven me for
our last conversation and be
walking slightly faster than I
would like to walk.

We’d pass the torches and the International Market.
We’d pass lovers and families.
We’d stop in the entrance to the hotel
and lots of people would be coming and leaving.

Her boyfriend would be sitting in
the lobby but he wouldn’t get
up when he saw us, tamed and trained.
He would have a book and a pen,
hiding his lips he’d smile at us.
And he’d be sitting there writing
wearing flip-flops.
He would be taller than me and I would
not be able to smell cologne on him.

I’d leave the hotel and
walk back a thoughtful pace
and stop for an ice cream
at a Baskin-Robbin’s:
Blue Moon over Cotton Candy.
I would sit in patio seating and watch the sidewalk.

Then I would replay our walk in my head:

– Tracie always seemed to know
stuff like that was going to happen.

– When I looked back to see
how far we’d gone since we started
I saw what a good job the water
was doing replacing the sand, mechanically.

– When she talked to me I felt
as a listener must feel when being
told a person’s near-death/out-of-body/
light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel story
just after her return.

– Why didn’t I ask her
to drive for a little while with me or
sit by the water with me for a little while?

My list would continue as such until
I would remember where Tracie’s eyes were;
she’d have been looking at the horizon.