August12011
PonyTale
PonyTale
I couldn’t swim deep enough. My ponytail had to stick out above the dark blue squiggly lines turned waves. Like a thumb that throbs, my head stuck out, noticeable. Even at twilight. I couldn’t make you believe I could swim deep enough. Towards the darker black that was the bottom. As we’d race, my mind would pace the ways I could persuade you into believing I made it back so swiftly because simply, I was a good swimmer. If I could swim as good as I lie, the black would be no threat, the deep my ebbing enemy. And you, a feeble competitor. I hate this ponytail, but probably love you more. So I wear it also, so I can see the sea, you see? The salt burns, but at least the brown tendrils do not get in our way. In my way; I seem to get in my way often. On the way down, the boy glances at the girl. “She’s thinking,” he thinks to himself. I need to grasp the person I was a few moments ago and the person I will be in moments to come. One I find, meant for the ethereal gleam, beside her, behind her and above her. Some call it the moon, I call Spirit. The other, the beguiling blunder disguised as a handsome temptation, or a coy enchantress. It’s hard to think under water, but I can see both are fragile and fortunate. Aware of the humanness and abundance that surrounds. I couldn’t swim deep enough and I hate this ponytail, so I trace the steps before me and find a greater kind of sea. Where my breath are tokens that create ripples and my body the shore that keeps order and direction. Or is it even my breath, my body? I can’t swim deep enough, but found the deep surely finds me.
Tags: /fiction
