We lived in Whitestone, Queens, an hour from the ocean.
On the rare summer days we went to Jones Beach,
we had to apply Sea ‘N Ski from head to toe
(we were fair and burned easily).
Mom was the best to have put it on you.
She used both hands, which were soft, gentle,
in touch with what it felt like to have lotion put on them.
She kind of massaged the Sea ‘N Ski on you, taking time to work it in.
Dad used only one hand, the other hand holding the green plastic bottle.
His hand was stiff, he always pressed too hard, and in a matter of seconds
he’d finished the job, leaving you feeling like you’d been manhandled,
which you had been.
About the AuthorBob Slaymaker's poems have appeared in many literary reviews, including Callaloo, Exquisite Corpse, Free Lunch, Gargoyle, Drumvoices Revue, and Zuzu's Petals Literary Quarterly. His poetry has also appeared in a number of newspapers and magazines, among them The Christian Science Monitor, Cover, The Omaha Star, The Orlando Times, and Essence. A product of MFA programs in writing and film at Columbia and NYU, he has taught at NYU, the State University of New York, Long Island University, the University of Hawaii, the City University of New York, and the University of California. He's been a featured reader at Barnes & Noble and Borders, and his work has been read on New York's WBAI-FM.
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