1/7?/13 . Sunday night in FL w/Katie and Elise.
Katie paying my way to Florida cause it's the only way she could get me to go with her.
The ocean and the sea are so very different - nothing alike.
Underwater with the light on in the hot pool I can see scars decades old - on my shin where I tried to be superwoman with my sister and her friend Corin McCray in the creek and I dropped the huge slab of slate from over me 48 pound 8 year old head onto my shin and just knicked it - pouring blood into the cold bubbling creek as sister and friend splashed away at the wound. an attempt to thwart a trip with a sobbing baby sister back to the house, where mother would be waiting.
the ocean storm breeze rattles palm fronds and they skitter and squeak like a vibraphone or a xylophone.
a black rounded mountain monster slowly rises into the sky, sweeping over blacking out the ribbons of grey silk frozen there in mid-ruffle.
the storm moves ever gently on. i am warm outside and i am nearly nude. and wet.
the sky's enveloped in misty charcoal soup.
not a soul on the beach as i break my gaze from the black horizon and burst into sprint across the shore. the drum beats steady to my right and in my chest, my fists are pumping and i'm going for distance. i'll never tire at this rate. i could sprint right down the coast, around the tip and stop only when my nude toes froze in the tundra of Iceland.
Katie paying my way to Florida cause it's the only way she could get me to go with her.
The ocean and the sea are so very different - nothing alike.
Underwater with the light on in the hot pool I can see scars decades old - on my shin where I tried to be superwoman with my sister and her friend Corin McCray in the creek and I dropped the huge slab of slate from over me 48 pound 8 year old head onto my shin and just knicked it - pouring blood into the cold bubbling creek as sister and friend splashed away at the wound. an attempt to thwart a trip with a sobbing baby sister back to the house, where mother would be waiting.
the ocean storm breeze rattles palm fronds and they skitter and squeak like a vibraphone or a xylophone.
a black rounded mountain monster slowly rises into the sky, sweeping over blacking out the ribbons of grey silk frozen there in mid-ruffle.
the storm moves ever gently on. i am warm outside and i am nearly nude. and wet.
the sky's enveloped in misty charcoal soup.
not a soul on the beach as i break my gaze from the black horizon and burst into sprint across the shore. the drum beats steady to my right and in my chest, my fists are pumping and i'm going for distance. i'll never tire at this rate. i could sprint right down the coast, around the tip and stop only when my nude toes froze in the tundra of Iceland.
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