i scored with my improbable mistress
by mark m. 9/30/2008 tucson
all i could see of her above the water was her head, and the ripples and curves of cool blue light cast upon her by the pool lamps beneath us, hypnotic cerulean-white and cobalt contours of light, refracted through dancing water in an aquarium of semi-pickled human specimens, an aquarium without windows and without curious observers; and i could only see the back of her head, and her coiffure, which was a cute little bob. although she was confined as a peripheral vision by the force of social norms which worked invisibly like magnetism to thwart my direct gaze, my infatuation was immediate and my lust filled the space between the water molecules, and this watery universe began to contract and draw us nearer (a natural pickling process,) or so i began to wish. dancing light from the pool darkened the night sky above us, by contrast, and the tiny waves lapping at my bare chest felt chilly (twin karmic waves would equally arrive at her chest a moment henceforth, the chilly ripples titivating her nipples & tickling them to a nearly painful erectitude.) i would swim a lap to warm myself but i could not avoid avoiding looking at the object of my new obsession.
she seemed to be watching with fixed interest the water polo match in progress a few lanes away, but i imagined with delight that she fantasized about me, and reciprocated my indirect but nevertheless intense craven yearning. blurry grunts and heaves from the polo players and splashing water, and the maddening whistle of the referee in damson-smugglers composed the audible wallpaper of the poolscape. i fantasized that she fantasized that we thrust our bodies underwater to find the silence there and collide in the pretense of accident, manufacturing a socially acceptable excuse to begin a sordid and catastrophic series of other acceptable pretenses, such as joining the same afterpolo JARTS club, with the surreptitious purpose of creating new opportunities to avoid looking directly at each other, all of which might hopefully bleed into and contaminate and ruin our careers and destroy our families and induce wonderment in guilty bystanders who are thus entranced by our bridled and unexpressed machinations of electrocuted lust and pseudo bacchanalia!
strangely however, i was suddenly and powerfully overcome with the manifestation that i must look directly at this woman who commanded my imaginary world, because an abrupt impact in the water nearby caused her head to bob up and down most unnaturally, as if disconnected from the weight of her body beneath (yes, her body beneath.) but when i consciously directed my eyes at her, my mistress was transformed spontaneously into a water polo ball! or, perhaps, tragically, she always was a H2O polo ball (which is not to be confused with a celebration for those afflicted with water poleo - a diseased water party for erstwhile amphibians.) my internal chaos swelled and peaked and i went awry, and i swam amuck in the pool.
i lunged toward my apparition, which had deceived me so countersexually, and a primordial component of myself seized me. i grabbed the ball and hurled it at the goal two lanes away. the ball braised the head of the goal defender and penetrated into the net, whereby i scored with my improbable mistress. the goalie's head snapped toward me reflexively searching for the source of this unexpected assault, and he looked at me with angry surprise and suspicion, and i heard the maddening shrill whistle of the tightly-tighted referee (who blew his whistle by force of habit, upon impulse of insult and absurdity; for i was not a player in the game which he officiated and wherein he exercised authority, and therefore his inapplicable signal of disapproval could not invalidate my goal nor diminish the point i had scored in the hysteria of my fanatical lust gone askew, and this impulse to communicate condemnation, deriving from his inexpressible sensation of the unacceptably random, traveled past his intended audience and then slowly out to the cosmos like SETI signals so inconceivably sluggish that entire new species evolve and vanish on distant planets before the signal can traverse a tenth of the space between here and there, and only hypothetically to reach a potential alien listener who is not prepared to distinguish them from static on its radio, and so this authority figure hereby discovered his own futility, and felt backward into the pool, smuggling damson fruit across the border of air and water.)
could another source of disenchantment have rendered me less compatible with water polo players? they all swam toward me and the pool looked like a swarm of pyranha with human heads, aroused to a feasting level of frenzy. but i simply disappeared underwater, whereupon, the players devoured themselves owing to their identical skullcaps which happened to be exactly like the one i was wearing, and thus rendering them all indistinguishable targets of each other. diving deep, i opened a small grate on the bottom of the pool and wiggled (i do love wiggling) through the pipes into the drainage culvert downhill. then, climbing out of the conduit and onto the earth, i shook myself dry by vibrating wildly and spazming ecstatically to accelerate my laffsparks and ozo-kynkullz, and then danced my way into a nearby cranksided wilderness where i plopped on a pollyp and attempted some self-unawareness exercises. i peeled off the skullcap that had caused the water polo players to contract water poleo and kill each other - thinking they were all me.
lack of exercize questions:
was i player in the game beforeall?
am i an erstwhile amphibian?