New  »   Sunshine Jen  ·  Robot Journal  ·  Post-Modern Drunkard  ·  Poop Beetle  ·  Gator Country

«« past   |   future »»

Me and Him

Me and him were walking under what appeared to be a full moon, striding down what seemed to be a road. Beside us, gurgling loudly, was what sounded and gleamed like a river.

Me and him, we wanted to cross over the currents and get to what looked like the other side. We were hoping for something like a birdge as we walked.

A boat! he yelled.
There. He ran over to this object obscured in shadow, which I suppose, in a certain light, could have been mistaken for a boat.
That's not a boat.
Of course it is.
No. It really isn't. Boats float.
This doesn't float?
How do you know?
I made it.
You made it?
And it doesn't float?
No. I mean yes.
Why would you make a boat that doesn't float?
It's not a boat.
What is it then?
I don't have a name for it.

He threw up his hands in disbelief. He paced, he muttered. I stood still, a little afraid. He was stubborn and most of all, short-tempered. He walked over to the water that was running by, mostly in one direction. He pointed at the sky.

That! he yelled, that is the moon, right?
I guess.

He ran onto the cleared path we had been walking down. He jumped up and down in the silvery light cast by what was, admittedly, probably the moon.

This! he yelled, this is a road...?!?
It could be a path, a trail...
A road! he cried. It's a road. Look at it!
Fine, I said. It's a road.

And this! he said, scrambling down the bank, splashing his feet and hands in the glimmering stream. This is a river
Suuuure, I said, insincerely.
And why is this a river? Why is that the moon? Why is that road a road? Because they are! He was furious. They just are! He howled. Look at them! Look! Moon, road, river.
Yes! Boat. It's a boat, see look at it.
It isn't a boat. I know. I made it.
Why would you make a boat, he asked again, that doesn't float?
It's not a boat.

He sighed. Why, he asked, would you make a thing that looks like a boat that doesn't float?
I don't always know why I do the things I do.
You're out of your mind.

I smiled at this. He was right, mostly.

Being mostly out of my mind, and very curious as well, I helped him push the thing into the water and we both climbed in. If we were on a river, it was a wide river and probably about mid-stream, the thing I had made which was not a boat sank. It sank suddenly, without warning...just as I had designed. This part made me strangely proud.

The water was kind to us and deposited both me and him alive on its banks... opposite banks. There was nothing that looked like a bridge or a boat.

«« past   |   future »»

all comments

post #263
bio: blaine

first post
that week

Category List
April - National Poetry Month 2008

Favorite Things
· Autumn's first apples
· What It Is! Funky Soul and Rare Grooves boxset
· Collected Works of Jack London
· Spring Migrants