I Have Your Back. Now Let’s Go Float.
Cup of Joe on stilts nary a look to its left only on my right. Both bitter and sweat. Only there to surprise and belies. Where for art thou for it shall enter my body soon though never then sooner shall it be. It will be enough. It will be forthright. It will be magnificent. It will be. I say that like I know what I am talking about. You dig? And color me blue I don’t know what I’m talking about. I mean Katy bar the door. That’s copacetic. I am talking. So listen to me. Listen to what I am saying. Listen to what I want. I’m hurting. I don’t want hurt anymore. I don’t want to be here. The screaming is too much. I run. I hide. I hear it. When the screaming begins, it never seems to end. And when it does end what happens next. What will happen next. The children of the world are to be protected from a world that emphasizes pain and their diminishment. I mean can you top that? While it’s not the cats meow, It’s something else. Can you relate? It’s as simple as one plus one equals three. Haha. Sometimes it feels that way. That the numbers don’t add up. If I get a question wrong, it effects my grade. Here, if something is wrong, it’s endless. Then my world is built around it. So I sit here and write. Check the time on the iPhone writing away. I’ll leave at 7:30 to swim. To get into water and move. Float. Dive to 13 feet 3 times and listen to nothing. Easing through the water like a snake. Let me tell you it’s what I need. It’s the gas. To feel water around my skin. You dig? It’s the closet thing I can get to a hug nowadays. Fancy that? Flesh on bone. Wood around lead. Crazy times. With the upside down downing and the right side up upping. That’s a headstand philosophy. Cheers and mid-fives to that. Yes. Water for love. It will have to do.
15 minutes to go. Tin cup of coffee empty. Tin Cup. I like that movie. Tin cup moments. The moments that will stick beyond competition, scores, standings. Elegance in the non-finery. Inspiration under the guise of a radical act. Transcendent forms capitalize on the majesty of the imperfections of common humanity. In spite of this. I want out. Out of other peoples words. They don’t want to listen. To ask words. To get to know. Me. Most men pontificate and complain. Most women are sizing me up giving me nothing to chew on while skating on thin ices of existence. Afraid. Never staying in one spot too long. When that is is probably what a man seeks. Someone who has his back as he flails in cold freezing water. Not saying, “Jack, come back” Flailing with thin ice surrounding him.
“I have your back. Let go and float”
