Beaches
too slow;
The last time I saw him, he needed my help.
He got fucked up and floated himself out to sea like a wandering buoy or like a pyre on its way to Valhalla.
And I guess I just imagine him lying on his back in full clothing, riding the waves until the beach was nearsighted fuzzy. Breathing out like lungs full of so much smoke. Breathing out and looking at the stars until they blurred under the weight of the water and the hypoxia.
They found him like a beached whale, like mystery feet. A bloated refugee, ruining a jogger’s morning run or a child’s sandcastle.
I remember the phone calls.
I remember their voices.
He got fucked up and floated himself out to sea like a wandering buoy or like a pyre on its way to Valhalla.
And I guess I just imagine him lying on his back in full clothing, riding the waves until the beach was nearsighted fuzzy. Breathing out like lungs full of so much smoke. Breathing out and looking at the stars until they blurred under the weight of the water and the hypoxia.
They found him like a beached whale, like mystery feet. A bloated refugee, ruining a jogger’s morning run or a child’s sandcastle.
I remember the phone calls.
I remember their voices.
♠ ♠ ♠
6/7