Sea Breeze
In the chill of sundown I clutch
a caramel latte as ambulance lights
ripple across black steel
like an ill-kindled campfire.
Ill-bundled, I watch the gurney’s
wheels race across the road
while a woman wails white frost
from her lungs.
The Sarasota sun sets too soon,
and the nippy nights of sea-breeze
breathe black dread down the
too-dim downtown. The elderly,
with walkers and dementia, can’t stand
it. Can’t believe their onyx reflection
in shop windows. watching years plumb
off their thinning skin like steam.
It’s too much to witness the withering,
to witness the ways this city—designed for them—
dismisses the frailty in favor of frugality.
To witness the wailing woman
and wonder where this snowbird’s
children have flown.
Tyler Lemley
Tyler Lemley is a recent graduate of the University of the Incarnate Word in San Antonio, Tx where he received his Bachelor of Arts in Theatre Arts and English. Tyler writes from the perspective of a queer person from a small Texas town grappling with love and belonging. He has been published in the The Main Street Rag, The Tusculum Review, Does It Have Pockets, and has work forthcoming in Black Fox Literary.