banana sandwich

I was 3 years old

the summer of my initiation to the Atlantic,

happy to be finally included with my brothers

who lived to play in the surf,

before they were all crippled, back when

they could skip and run like fawns.

🎶

Nana, inspired by a film siren,

dressed up for town and made me

her special:

banana slices on white bread spread with mayonnaise.

She packed me up with my sandwich and

dropped me on the beach to sit alone

while she went to buy a new lipstick called

Cadillac red,

so she could feel glamorous and rich,

for an evening,

at least.

🎶

Solo, I ate the banana sandwich on edge,

sweet and savory at the same time.

I squinted into the waves,

my lungs choking on the iodine air,

hoping my brothers' skinny legs

would appear in front of me,

like a mirage.

It was the first time I was ever alone,

but not the last time

I ate a banana sandwich

made with mayonnaise.