A two-toned albatross
Skidded white across a black n' blue night.
A dog barked far off at a pair of squirrels worried about a nut.
There was that one hoot owl.
One boiling kettle whistled for some late night decaf tea.
Maybe a near-empty plane overhead.
It was a night with two people on a dock by a lake.
What day was it when we fell out of love?
You've never asked before so I assumed you knew.
I know, I said. Tell me.
The skinny white bird finally planted its fat ***
Into the water,
Messing up the reflected starlight
And the peace felt only
Out there.
You don't remember?
Sure I do, I said. I just want to hear you say it.
A flicked shadow shifted my gaze. Starting to hit. Hesitation burdened my voice. Aloha, I thought. I was in search of another way to say hello. Hello.
That was one of my main issues.
There were sub-issues? Sudden guilt made me turn my eyes to something I could manage: the shadow between waves; the gum creak of wood; the pain in me; the vapidness of words sometimes.
I'm cold.
Same, I said.
There's a sub-issue.
The albatross, stoked by moonlight, was suddenly ripped underwater by an unseeable, unavoidable need. Like all needs, there was no way of getting away from the necessary impulse for every organism to live a healthy, sustained, justified life. The commotion sent ripples to a shore that would always be there to catch them. Nature, in some regions, has its unbreakable commitments.
Did we see that? I asked.
No.
But the ripples, I'm implored. They ran across the surface of the water like track runners for the stick...the trident. I paused. The?
Baton.
The baton, I repeated. They ran to the edge like a runner who bet their legs if they lost. I never have seen such commitment.
Me neither.
Low, I smirked.
Well, then what?
Then what? I asked.
My mind started chatting within itself, When I was young, there was a time when I was so scared to fall asleep because I would have these vivid nightmares. They were so bad I thought they were real. I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I thought I was destined to stay locked in that nightmare forever.
Funny how there is always a then. What if there wasn't?
Then, I said. There wouldn't be. What about ripples? I urged.
When you throw a rock into a body of water, the rock pushes the water out of its way as it enters, causing ripples to move away from its point of entry in a circle or ring shape. Water then rushes back in to fill the empty space, which can often cause a splash, resulting in more ripples forming.
Through a thick ivory cloud, another albatross burst forward. I tried not to look up, for I was afraid if I looked away from you, you would disappear. There was a screech. I flinched. I couldn't help but lookup.
I'm sorry, I pleaded.
As soon as I took my eyes off of you, you were gone.
The albatross, in need of a home, skated their legs across the water.