Becoming Acquainted

Audrey Goddard

That hand-me-down tent of yours,

offering the promise of adventure

to novice explorers desperate for

deliberate escapism the relentless

monotony of Seattle sky naturally

evokes. Those of us guilty of wine-

induced burnout particularly prone to

such delusions. I do it to myself, the

prospect of nature—my newfound

thrill. But I’m here now, desperation

seeps out from my prattling tongue

and exposes my least favorite flaws.

In our manufactured parking lot home,

we watch winds turn bitterly uncertain.

Unwilling to admit defeat, our stubborn

heads planted upon concrete pillows,

a mouthful of melatonin ensuring the

best night’s sleep. This is what I get

for saying yes. I like control though

I gave mine away. Your optimism soon

squashed by a waterlogged awakening.

With defeat admitted and our 5 am spent

in an Ocean Shores McDonalds, I sip

stale coffee and stare with a vacancy

achieved only through a concoction

of poor decisions. Can you blame me?

I don’t know if I blame myself but I

know I should. But I’m here now,

rubbing sleep from my eyes and

blinking in light from a new day,

wondering if this is what happens

when I let fate, or you, decide.