The way the light played around with everything you would think I never quit being amazed, but that’s all you get down here is sunlight skewing off every which way. I’ve got bigger things to worry about, like sudden shadows.
It was just kind of rocking on the surface, a big rectangle shape that was almost always a boat, but this one had a piece cut out of the bottom that the sun shone through. I swam up to it to see, because I never get to see things that way.
She was there on the boat, twig-bodied with her arms crossed stretched out on the glass in a brown bikini. I swam under, one eye on her, and she just watched me. She brushed some hair out of her face. It’s dangerous to stay in one place long, but I made to go around the boat again.
I took a long arc away and then cut quick back, came all the way up to where the two skies met, skimmed the bottom of the boat. When I saw her again she jumped back a little, which maybe I was too close but it hurt just the same.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
My mother was a fish
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I feel sort of dumb leaving a comment here since I see you nearly every day, but just in case it wasn't clear the first 20 times I said it, I think this one is tragic and beautiful. Love ya, old man.
ReplyDeleteSometimes I think you're the only one, that I always read this one out loud or share it with people just because you tell me to. Who cares, though, it's got a Faulkner reference.
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