#1
Swimming Story

Margaret was just a young girl with watermelon seeds in her teeth. She lived in a house surrounded by lily pads on Balkan’s Pond. It was actually an old houseboat, its architecture all a mess; the beams were askew and various whale bones clogged holes to keep water from coming in or going out.

I’d sometimes paddle on my back to see her in the summer. The pond was really more like a lake, swimming off into the horizon, resting finally on a mountain shore. We went skinny dipping once, after Margaret insisted. Her body was gentle. Mine, uninviting. It was day and I had no pockets in which I could nervously hide my hands. She backstroked all around the lake as I watched from the dock; toweled, warm, slowly shifting colors—a chameleon in the sun.

Her breasts were—there. Always there. Her pond stained skin. Bits of earth clung to her hair. I tilted my head back and saw the sun cowardly tucking its head behind the side of the world. Days are never really done—light imposes itself upon us. Out of spite we stayed up and made love far into the night until the sun came around again—surprised, but delighted to see us.

Walk


Down a path that leads through a blueberry forest, we walked. Trees bowed. The breeze travelled in through our sleeves, made its way down past our chests, stomach, unmentionables, and exited near our shins. The path wasn’t so much a path as it was just a place to put our feet. Somewhere during that time we exchanged some words before we went home and watched tea leaves swell in their steep. Day graduated into night dressed in its pitch black graduation gown. Congratulations, by the way—“We’re all so proud,” is what the card would have read.
Last edited by rushmore at Mar 23, 2012,
#2
Busy now, leaving this comment to save a place. It'd be a shame for this to go without a write-up, at one time you were one of my favorite writers here.
#4
enjoyed this man. but to make this worth slightly more than a facebook like, I think you could do without the 'graduation' before gown. at least i think it reads better that way.
i need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me, yeah.
#5
It seemed like the transition between your nervousness and the love making was a tad quick. Otherwise, this was great.