The willowy girl with Jean Harlow hair
And dimples that wink in Irish soap skin
Starts to vogue in the kitchen.
She’ll be on the tabletop soon enough
Tonight’s craic has begun.
The student old marrieds defend their Lucky Charms
Twin sunburned arms
Hugging their bowls of clovers and wishes
Drowned in blue/pink milk
By that manic leprechaun.
On the musty Summer couch
We sit you and I, there
Like salt water creatures
Flung out of the deep end
It’s harder to stand.
Rrrasp click, Rrrasp click
The Zippo has the attention
All thoughts on ignition
Something, anything — flick it again
Maybe it’s in denial?
Then the creak and the slap
Of the Summer screen door
You’re next to me, no more
Well that sounded final.
I look up to witness, then pause, check in
Wait for her to settle in
But before she digs in
I’m already running.
Bare feet they feel nothing
But air rushing under
Ears hearing nothing but
Breath and heart crash, full thunder — on
Open eyes seeing nothing
But a glimmer of track
Who cares if it’s black
I’ve got the wind at my back.
And then I see you
You turn at the cross
One time it’s been done
For once I have won.
I run by a sidewalk gallery
Ignore the whistles and guffaws
This time I don’t pause
I launch.
Because,
It’ll be a good craic.
— By Robin Harper
A year-round Island resident since 1997, Robin Harper lives in Edgartown with her husband and two daughters. This poem was inspired by one summer night when Robin was 18, the only American sharing a house in Oak Bluffs with 10 students from Ireland.
