Allergic Reaction by Shelagh Power-Chopra

Maybe they’re done, maybe we can’t hold on to any of this anymore–this
one whale town and its jiggery, sunken gait and sallow wooden fences,
strewn with aged buoys and weak neighbors who walk the oyster shell
driveways and brush the tips of beach plums with their soft
fingertips–wasn’t like them to miss an opportunity to gab on the
broken curb, smoke pouring from gristled lips in front of the bar and
we’d know who gutted Stripers that day, what ya got for dinner? What
ya got for home? Or how may Quahogs were raked and whose girl had left
or abandoned the day, left the mix of salt and sunshine dim,
forgettable, still and heavy in the still tide. Now, there’s Massy
coming towards me, thin, ropey calves and shaded jaw, herring for bait
in hand but a rash on the forehead, spreading towards his cheeks and
Kern is whistling now, making fun of him, rashes from eating old
shrimp bait and jabbing me with his elbow, nodding towards the old
tackle box we all seem to share. Tonight, I want eels, cooked in
butter and shallots with a risotto and I want Roan to swim up on the
shore after dusk, in her striped bikini, throw a damp towel down in
the watery, rocky sand and throw the conch shells she’s collected on
my lap and we’d watch nothing on TV, nothing at all, after all summer
is here and should remain, should remain forever.

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Filed under Shelagh Power-Chopra

3 responses to “Allergic Reaction by Shelagh Power-Chopra

  1. You managed to paint a very nostalgic picture of an allergic reaction. :)

  2. Beautiful. And now I am hungry. Peace…

  3. Pingback: Week #12 – Allergic Reactions « 52|250 A Year of Flash

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