Caribbean Blue

Used clothes lie in a pile of sand and sweat on top of the dresser. A long-sleeved cardigan laughably out of place, untouched. I overpacked, I always overpack, I could have survived this trip on a sundress and a pair of flip flops, I see that now. I do not prepare the water jugs in the fridge tonight, do not arrange the beach bags or scour maps for undiscovered treasures. Tomorrow, instead, is travel again, is that sad cardigan and lace-up sneakers and arriving LaGuardia at several degrees below freezing and my brown skin will have rubbed off in transit. Impossible to imagine the disappearance of such a week. A final dive in the ocean, watching my changed skin revel in itself, my fingers sweeping through the turquoise water like some painting unreal, of course I was reluctant to go. I have forgotten an entire life, abandoned it wholly for this fantasy. And now it is over.

My eyes close on their own accord, my limbs tired from the sweetness. I lie in the sweltering room, tiny beads of sweat in my temple. Breathe deeply the heavy air of Elsewhere.