Imagine a rock formation at the edge of the sea while the tide was low, topped by a single, forlorn tree.
Imagine jade waters slamming into jagged, dark edges of rock. I ease myself in through the cracks underneath. I want to take my clothes off and swim there, in this forgotten pocket of the universe, barely hang on to the rocks with my fingers, scream and laugh as the tide pulls me away, shed useless tears as I cut my feet on the sharp bottom. Our bodies were not meant for this pocket of the sea: unlike the tiny creatures that lived in the corners where only the water reached--small crabs and snails, little sea-blossoms that shrank to the touch-- we are larger, softer and more awkward by comparison, and we would have paid dearly for our intrusion; torn to shreds over time, i imagine, and it would have taken us years to wash ashore, swept smooth and blanched bone-white, to truly belong.
You took my hand as i slipped over stones carpeted with moss, and i thought about how nobody else knew where we were, and it must have been the cool relief of the seawater streaming in and out of the rock wall we spent for god-knows-how-long, but i felt that it would have been a mistake not to kiss you then, in the blue shadows, away from the rest of the world, but as i started to pull on your hand, you looked back and kissed me.
