A Letter To Shamanda Poem by hollie ash

Tonight I was driving on that meandering two-lane highway south of Yachats when the wet of winter was suspended as the clouds broke and the night sky winked at me through the windshield.

Like a soundtrack to my life, that rising, raw, half-scream, half-wail from ‘All My Mistakes’ – the one that hit you at just the right moment, it played right there at the turnout to Cape Perpetua.

I cracked the window - a pitiful substitute for the way our hair whipped with the top down that day. And the salt-laden air smelled of approaching spring, but if I tried hard enough, I could still smell that October day: sun-baked dirt, coffee, Marlboros and sea animals.

I swung the car to the right and climbed the one-lane road to the top where I cut the lights and the engine and shivered as I exposed myself to the wind. I was completely alone, but for the memories of when you offered me cheese, how heads gently rested on shoulders and the laughter. Oh, the laughter!

Then the clouds shifted east, dimming the already lackluster stars.