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Time on Water by Robert Gibbons




The Immensity of Ocean's Dreams


The sea breathing in toward high tide as if sleeping, regal stones keeping watch. Lunch down there on the wide-open Saturday: seaweed salad, hijiki & arame, chicken leg, wine, half grapefruit. A bag of books I may not get to. Alone, (can one ever be alone among the spirits invested in these stones?) except for one figure so far down the distance of the shoreline not intruding on my solitude. I begin to speculate on the immensity of ocean's dreams. But then, no, not really, they wouldn't be clear enough, like the one that comes to mind from a week ago. A woman danced. Naked to the waist. Quicker movements than humanly possible underwater, which is where she danced. I was under her looking up from the bottom of a pool, that kind of clarity. A sort of swimming shimmering, so agile, the little breasts. That's exactly how I felt during the performance: one of these regal stones soon covered by high tide, seaweed waving like dark hair.


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