That was the fastest I've ever moved in my life.
Uneven ground and crushed grass underfoot,
You, just in front of me, and then
Nothing
Oxygen
Life and breathing in and out and
Cold water
Plans to buy a new cellphone to replace the one in my pocket
Clothes melting off my skin like icing on a still-warm cake
I didn't even know you could swim
And I certainly didn't know where I was going until I almost landed on top of you
It was no Pacific ocean-
I couldn't feel the salt in the cracks on my dry hands
But I could feel my heavy and suddenly water logged boots dragging me towards some bottom I was unaware of
And then I could feel my own instinct steadily resisting
The dull pulse of a practiced motion
They call it muscle memory-
And after all that, I could feel your hand on my shoulder where the sleeve had slipped down, crawling towards my elbow
I could feel your eyes on my wet hair
Which, at least, wasn't messy anymore
I felt your spirit, if you believe in that, meshed together with river algae,
And a distinct numbing feeling
And all I remember after that was breathing,
In and out,
Both of us.