It was a beautiful day, and then it ended. |
Lake Couchiching We stood clothed on the edge of the cement dock, searching the murky water, looking for words in the aqueous ink. You dared me to jump, and I thought seriously about going in with my shoes on and leaving all my plans on the copper-scorched grass. This would mean the surrender of good judgment and careful makeup, without really knowing where it would lead me. This would be a heavy sacrifice. I decided to leap, but insisted on changing first, not thinking it might get colder, or that the moment had already gone. I shed the clothing, pulled on the black, ruched suit and sauntered like a sly cat shooting quick, furtive blinks with marble-cool eyes. We returned to the dock, and the sun was somewhere different, holding a little back, making me wonder if I were so wise. I don’t remember crashing through the rippled glass or what I thought when its razor-cool cut me, turning my blood into rubies. I can only recall your delight and the sounds you made as you circled me in triumph, sloshing madly, reeling me in. The longer we paddled, the warmer the water seemed and at first I didn’t want to get out. Then, slimy rocks and slithery reeds were all around me, bruising and tangling my feet, tainting the sweetness. A dead white fish was floating like a lost flower strewn in a sunny day celebration, bobbing without reason. Like a frenzied feline clawing for liberty, I groped the edge of the slick dock, feeling for a way to pull myself out, desperate for safety of the earth that I knew. Thrashing and sliding, losing my grip, over and over. And you thought I was having fun. I lifted myself up and shook it all off, one drop at a time. You decided to stay, perhaps to punish me, but you looked at home, moving in circles, fish at your feet. I padded back with my head down averting the rays that looked to burn me, leaving liquid footprints in my wake. I tell myself that they’ll be gone, eventually. |