Et de ratage en ratage, on s'habitue à ne jamais dépasser le stade du brouillon.
La vie n'est que l'interminable répétition d'une représentation qui n'aura jamais lieu.

---Hipolito, Le fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

I had not realized death was so near.
I simply had not realized.

There is still grime gathered at the bottom of the shower curtain.
And we are pulled toward opposite ends of the pool -
I cannot kick fast enough
whenever I should pace myself;
breathing in salts
suffocates our tryouts.

I cannot get through to you
when the coast is so near;
I cannot get through to you when I'm with sharks.
Blue ones, Hammer ones, such big, great, Whites.
But mostly Mako.

One can never go in too deep, you see:
silence threatens, threatens, threatens
like sonar bouncing off reef walls,
as if there are no other feet
pacing over the trenches.

I simply had not realized.

[...]

In order to be this far off shore,
I had to be alone.


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