At 2:47 AM,
the bed shakes
and I wake.
My body is cold.
The sheets are tired.

I tell her there has
been an earthquake
and the Cumbre Vieja
volcano has just dropped
179 million tons
of rock into the Atlantic.

She says:
“it is not an earthquake —
there are no earthquakes in
Florida – at least not in
the middle of winter – it’s
not earthquake season”
But I look out the
upstairs window,
east, toward
the ocean.

The wall of water, I say
could be up to 110 feet
tall,  –  maybe more.

Go back to sleep she says,
there’s no earthquake,
and there are no water walls.
And don’t mention the
Cumbre Vieja again —
tonight.

But I can’t sleep so I go to the
kitchen to make tea.

I sit on a stool by the
bar watching TV while a
weather girl in a
lavender dress
explains that
the day ahead
will be just like
the last – 82 degrees,
partly
cloudy,
no rain,
no
earthquakes,
tsunami risk is low.

I watch until
I weary of her cheer,

and then
I switch to a 24 Hr. news channel
where a grave but
engaging, field reporter is
broadcasting live from
a war-torn foreign country
and I am
cold again