water

I have a cat on my lap and I stare at maps, at the things hanging on my wall. In my head, I outline the places I have been, the borders, the oceans and the seas, the lakes, the indefinable ambiguity of water. I have stepped into the Atlantic in Africa and spent my time in the Florida coast and I have looked out at Antarctica; drank a beer on the Caspian Sea.

I trace my life in water and in borders, in places I have lived and loved, and run away, and sunk my head below the waves. I sketch my life in silhouettes, a shadow in the sand, digging my toes in deep.

The Pacific is cold and I trail my heel along the tide, licking at my feet. I wonder if someone is across the world from me, trailing their feet, maybe thinking of me.