Dream of zip lining through a flood of trees. It is like a tundra down here. The momentum slows and I dip down into the water below. And men many years my senior surround this vision.
We play songs on broken wings perched on cement stoops.
I grab hold of the line and cascade across the chord once more, through a hillside covered in moss I've never before seen. But it is familiar. This is all familiar; the dampness in the air, the songs, the men.
He sits beside me and kisses my eye. The pressure pushes my eye-lid into my eye and I can feel this, against the bone beneath my brow.
This time I forget the zip line and wade through the high waters. Resistance weighs as I move forward, cutting through the stream. The tide grows. My boots are entirely filled with water but my feet are not held down. The stain of the water has risen up my dress, darkening the white to a shade of grey almost reaching my chest.
And then I wake up. Not submerged. There is no moss-tinted water running near me. A white dress hangs from my closet door and I picture it wet.
113
14 years ago
