Summer of '89 by Oormila Vijayakrishnan Prahlad

It was almost always low tide,
on those white hot afternoons
when we raced down the shore,
cotton shorts and T-shirts billowing.

the sea would stretch, pulled away,
a distant placid puddle
of peridot and peacock blue.
stamped into the shallow waters,
the clumsy wave breakers
loomed like chunky bullies.

those were the days before scary CGI,
when the Jaws series,
(with its fake looking shark,
and ominous score,)
could still give you chills.
it was fun being seven years older -
I could prank you easily
with a white plastic shovel
stuck strategically into the silt,
you had to be dumb to believe,
that it was the washed up fin
of the Great White from the movies,
or you had to be five years old.

with the light oblique on our faces,
we could have lain forever, dozing,
two snug sardines, you and I,
our soft brown limbs buried
in the fast cooling sand,
till the runny yolk of the lukewarm sun,
dissolved and bled red,
in the deepening evening blues,

soon, the sea would transform
into an agitated entity,
whooshing and spewing white foam -
the lacy trims of the thundering tide
inching closer with each crash,
till they nibbled at the edges
of our powdery sand blankets.

we would dust our salt crusted hair,
wash ourselves in the strengthening waves.
and one last time
I would hum a deep ‘daa dum daa dum’ -
my infamous Jaws number on you,
falling over laughing,
as you bolted for shore
through the now whirling waters.



Oormila Vijayakrishnan Prahlad is a Sydney based artist, poet, and pianist. She holds a Masters in English and has worked in media and education. Oormila is a member of Sydney’s North Shore Poetry Project and performs her poems at venues in Sydney. Her work is forthcoming in the Eunoia Review.