Unlocked: Weekend At The Beach. Poem by Lesley Freedman

We awake to the brutal suck and smack
of wave after wave.
Float briefly in the liminal space
between doona and disbelief.

Heavy clouds press into a bruised horizon
clusters of rowdy students rejoicing on the sand.
Ali and Haz arrive with food and wine,
jutting elbows our weird embrace.

Squalls of winter rain keep us inside,
but now we know how to do this:
we drink and cook and eat. Repeat.
Scrabble, soup and conversation:
Jacinta, Dylan and BLM.
Ruby Princess, climate change and kids.
Another run on toilet paper.

I use all my tiles in one word:
hoarder.
Then pick up 1 consonant and 6 vowels.
Aioli is best word on the board.
In my opinion.

Our friends drive home,
we're back in our bubble.
Cook, eat, drink.
Finish the crossword, change the playlist,
scan the weekend papers.

Over there another surge in cases
still Trump trumpets:
they're winning.
In his opinion.

We slide down beneath the doona
Wait for the smash of the next wave
Holding hands against the rising tide of dread.
The surf rolls in regardless.