Tuesday |
I had a dream about my mother last night; we were swimming among the rocks. Later in the day I pedaled to Denny Blaine. Precognition or self-fulfilling prophecy? The thing I miss most about the ocean is the waves, the rhythm of rebirth, the saline pulse of the womb the same color as eyes closed on a sunny day. Here at the lake I'm grateful for motorboat wakes--they send sets of small waves queefing along the concrete slabs meant to protect the beach, and through that rhythm, the insistent repetition, I am released. |
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