Above the breaker

Written on hard keys, too much caffeine:
I've officially missed the boat, I'll wait for the next tidal wave.
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Days later, in a bathroom with a a dark wooden frame, surrounded by a 2002 green curtain and silver utensils, I had a thought about the boat that left me. Staring into pores that never go away, I squeezed the thought out like an eye-brow plucker with a thread, a publicist with a problem. The boat that left me drifting in the water wasn't meant to hurt my feelings but teach a lesson of paitience and pairings. Not everyone has departed.

You couldn't believe what is was like, that tidal wave. Just brutal I tell you. Nevermind the wetness, it just snapped and destroyed our dreams of street-wandering. With its hard fist and twisted neck its force pounded on the windows, smashed the boards, peeled the paint and took my dreams with it. Thought it would be years until they came back for us.

That day on the dock, I swore you were leaving too. Your gentle hand-wave predicted a long future of goodbyes. I remember your one finger had such a sense of longing it made me want to cry. Grasping the rail with your other hand, desperation floated out of your eyes and laser beamed across all those fishermen. Can you believe that their invisible lines couldn't block the green? The longing ended when your feet, determined as they are, dragged you on that boat. God how I wanted to punish those feet for tricking you. Oblivious, you gladly obliged and I cursed that boat for what seemed like eternity.

In the recently-cleaned bathroom, this epiphany told me your feet were wrong - you can even tell them I said that. Don't you see, that boat kicked you out for a reason. Even though your initial judgements of joining stragglers, like myself, wading in the wide open ocean was somewhat, if not very, skeptical, I think you soon realized the water isn't so bad. Yes at times it can be cold like a murderers dagger, slicing through your gastro organs, but we are meant to be chilled. Though the water may make you dizzy, people in the water crave the dizziness. We crave to dare the sharks to take a limb, look for that adventure of seeking out mermen and talking seahorses. This confirms our essence.

The people in the water don't use their legs very much but most other body parts are still very much functional. We are not bored. We sit in the water waiting for our ship, content. At the point that you joined the pool party most of us began to fully understand why we were deserted with yellow tubes and granola. Sorry for the lack of explanation. Not survival of the fittest, survival of the select. Stubborn is not a valid description when you wade - we have time. You'll begin to see how beautiful it is when the blue unravels and tickles the bottoms of our feet. Ignore the stimulation, we can't excited until it's our turn and that nonsense will just make you anxious. I'm glad you joined the clan and we're pretty sure you're welcome on the next boat, they never just leave one person. Just remember to actually do something when your sea legs disappear. I suggest the first you do is go to the roof and play with shifting your weight. Here we tend to forget the heavy sensations we are all capable of.

Don't pretend to drown! I promise the boat is coming soon - it has to...
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Last line said to self in the mirror right before Hook's croc made a guest appearance.