Tsunami Morning – a poem by Mark Tulin – Amethyst Review

Tsunami Morning: Just like any other day, I awoke bright and early. I had my buttered toast and Half-and-Half in my coffee. I kissed my wife goodbye, the dog gave a wag of his tail, and promised my twin daughters I’d make it to their dance recital. I opened the door and got carried away by…
— amethystmagazine.org/2018/10/21/tsunami-morning-a-poem-by-mark-tulin/

Tsunami Morning – a poem by Mark Tulin


Just like any other day,
I awoke bright and early.
I had my buttered toast,
Half & Half in my coffee.

I kissed my wife goodbye,
the dog gave a wag of his tail,
promised my twin daughters
I’d make it to their dance recital.

Opened the door and got carried away
by a big watery dinosaur.

The wave was at least a thousand feet tall,
had a wicked smile for a curl,
a destructive force of a demon crossed.

A dawn of a new era.
My old life washed away.
Good riddance to my nine-to-five job,
goodbye 401K,
I was getting tired of civilization anyway.

All my worldly possessions were gone,
my pipe dreams and gold teeth,
my daughters’ roller skate key
and my silver Ford Explorer
had all floated away

Down a one-way street,
past my favorite ice-cream parlor,
past the schools I attended,
along with saturated lawyers, computer geeks,
and complete strangers I never planned to meet.

I swam submerged with the endangered species
and non-denominational types with their hipster friends.
Sadly enough, only a few people floated to the top–
a Hatha yoga instructor named Laura,
a canonized Saint from Walla Walla,
and an investment broker from Kalamazoo.