|
If we all agreed not to swim back we could form our own little
colony. We'd have to agree
on a governing body. Maybe
elect a president or prime minister.
But we could do it. I
have faith in these ocean-drenched bodies below me.
They look agreeable enough.
I so don't
wanna be here. I want to be
out there. Out there on the
waves. It seems so much
simpler.
God. Dear dear God. Why
is it like this? Why am I
staring at a sun beginning to set and thinking that everything is over.
What's over? Nothing's
over. I have a gorgeous hunk of non-talking man right beside me.
He loves me. I love him. That
should do it. I wish I was
there. I wish I was there.
Doesn't it look like, out there, nothing goes wrong and
everything's right? Where
you could skip among the waves, send razor sprays of water out with your
foot, maybe jump and bounce back and forth like a cloud or a parachute
or a ball on a bedsheet.
|
|
I
highly doubt there's some fish out there, swimming back and forth,
looking at the colony of people up here and thinking to itself,
"Boy I wish I was on that rock.
That looks like way much more fun.
Those people look highly agreeable."
Water is fun. Land
is not.
"You're
quiet," he says. It
takes me a moment from me hearing it to processing it and finally
turning to look at him. "I
guess it's my turn," is all I can come up with.
He smiles, kisses me a few times.
I taste the saltwater on his lips, on his cheekbones.
I can smell the ocean on his forearms as he pulls me inside them.
And I turn around to face the sun again, watching the light dance
upon the waves as I hear him murmur over and over "I love you.
I love you."
I
wish I was there. I wish I
was there looking back at me here.
So I'd really know which place was better.
|
