Today I saw a woman in a bikini on a beach.

It was a jarring experience

Like stumbling upon a king cobra

I was on a beach on the Pacific Ocean in Japan
A bald Fuji san was in the distant background
The mountain’s snowy summit is usually
topped by it’s iconic snow cap.
It’s wispy veins melt away each summer.

In the summertime she can masquerade
She can appear as a rain cloud or a floating plateau.
To me she looks like a mountain whose base starts in the sky

I flew across the earth to the island nation of Japan on Christmas morning with a heavy heart

We flew in coach class.
Wearing face masks and goggles

As the plane took off I looked down at my Manhattan
I watched her shrink

I floated away from all I knew.

Now here I was on a beach on the other side of the Pacific

Her patten flickered like a reptile in my periphery.
Lean bony metalic.
I’ve become unacustemd to many things that were once familiar during my exile.
Here was yet another one

A maskless woman on a beach

I registered her form but her face was a blur

The mind casts off unimportant information into the periphery during times of crisis

I was with my seven year old.
It had been a year since we saw the ocean.
My recovering dad body glowed in the afternoon sun.
My wife was at home working diligently on the mountain.
Unaware of this ancient ritual unfolding on the Serengeti.