at max ebb
a paddle toward Yellow Bluff
a point that juts out into SF Bay
seals bob up and down
but as the point draws nearer and the
towers of the Golden Gate Bridge loom up
the water churns
waves banging bumping
colliding conflicting currents
battling for exit through the gate
a river at max ebb
the boat’s bow crashes down
and is tossed in every direction
as waves break up and overwhen I was a child I wanted to be an astronaut
but I was a girl born in 1950’s America
I was a girl pitched to calm water to wait out the tide