Pacific Grove 1940 By KAREN COTTER Summertime, the muted voices Of my mother and grandmother Laughing in the kitchen. Smells of coffee, strong and black There’s nothing outside my window The fog curls in silver ripples Hiding the feverish pinks and reds Of Hollyhocks I pull the covers higher My mother calls and I hurry to dress My grandmother’s old house smelling of mildew, pancakes Sleep and love The fog lifts, here’s the sun! where is my pail, where is my shovel? My favorite pail, jolly elephants At the circus. No shoes today! I run down the sloping street To the beach, the sun warming the old cracked squares of cement, Bits of mica glinting. Tiny grains of sharp sand bite into my bare city feet; That’s good, I’m here! I pass the ancient houses One by one, a small old lady Works in each garden Where are all the old men? See my Martha Washington’s? Look at the fuschias this year! Does your gramma want a “slip”? Magenta blossoms, fiery red Blushing white, unopened blossom Bulbs dangling – small fingers Make them pop!

The whistle blows at the Canneries It’s the swing shift! Lunch buckets empty, weary brown Faces heading home Smells of the sea on their shoes I run down the pink stone stairs An ice-cream sandwich held carefully in one hand, pail and shovel in the other Don’t go near the cave! You don’t know who’s in there! But look! Here’s a baby abalone shell, And a whole clam; into the pail! Here are my friends and we Cover each other with the warm Gritty granite sand. The cold water racing circles Around our ankles The water turquoise and clear, Tiny crabs investigate our toes Do you have a dime? We can share a hot dog! Wish we had fifty cents We could ride the Glass Bottomed Boat Betcha we could see a big abalone! Tiny fingers of fog signal Time to go home! Back up the hill, bucket of treasures Swinging along, Sunburned and happy My grandma and the Lone Ranger waiting December, 2000

Karen calls this writing form a Prome. “It’s not a poem. It’s not prose. It’s inbetween.”

Karen on Lovers’ Point Beach, Pacific Grove, with her pail, 1942

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