Perceptions of the atmosphere

We are driving along the coastal road

the lights of the mainland brighter than usual across the sea

and as they pass us by

and I focus my attention on the road’s concrete edge sinking in the dark water,

the lights across are different

and they happen to belong to another mainland,

one I’ve stared at before

but you haven’t.

Suddenly, we are not together.

It’s the second half of September

and I let my skin soak between

the coarse salt thrown by waves getting stronger

and the most perfect sun –

not burning, not cooling; just warm.

My eyes even when closed are pierced with light

and my head falls to the side of the co-driver’s seat

airy and yet so heavy with imagery.

We are no longer together

but you are still beside me.

When the wind stops on these odd September days

I realise my location

its surroundings undeniably specific;

the atmosphere cleared by the fierce gusts and now transparent like glass

exposing the low hills and the extravagant buildings

rising somewhere across the sea

all those details otherwise missed in a daily observation

otherwise submerged.

But for the wind to stop

on these days of early autumn,

that’s rare

and I keep losing myself

in outlandish whereabouts

I’ve only unsuccessfully inhabited.

September 2020,

Samothraki.

Photograph: staring across the sea, Samothraki; 22.09.20.