i think of the ocean and of wholeness; i think of the way that human hands felt
as the waves crashed grey-green across the sand. i watched faces,
memorizing the shapes of cheekbones, and we spoke distantly, watching the
surf.
we watched the surf and we watched the sunrise, heads tipped slightly to each
other. the colors change from the twilight grey-green to black to an ethereal gold
and the silence is pervasive.
my brain feels soft and murky and dull, and so i think of that distant clarity, the
shapes we used to trace in the sky. lake michigan shudders quietly to the east
but it is not like the ocean, the endlessness.
i kissed my old friend in the ocean not that long ago and it felt like we were on
ecstasy. the waves broke over our heads and we surfaced, gasping and sputtering
and shrieking with laughter. we melted into each other like teenagers; she wrapped
her fingers in my hair and we kissed desperately and sadly. later we were naked in
her bed and astonished and exhausted but the colors of her bedroom were the same
and the sounds of the ocean were the same. we took a quiet shower together and we
have barely spoken since.