Buying lotion on vacation
In Hawai’i my skin is saltraw
& crackling. I rub the lotion
from the trapped-tourist grocery store into my hands
& suddenly I am holding a toy from my childhood
with this exact smell: dark coconut, I want to say, hot leather sandals.
Like the last thirty years were a cul-de-sac. I bring my palms to my face,
breath searching between every finger — Which toy?
Mom would know. I want to tell her that this smell
is still alive out in the world.
I want it to mean that she is, too.
Kristina Percy