Friday, July 22, 2016

to the river

Florida, and the only reason the air itself isn't on fire is because it's saturated. I need to fall into natural water. I need to roll in the river, spring cold, underground cold. Rebirth, rejuvenation, recreation, re-creation. The cliche of baptism, true with or without gods. 

My gods hold these waters sacred because I do - isn't that how this works? 

In summer, the urge to wash off the salt that crusts us is stronger than the whispers in my mind. The fat kid who won't take his shirt off to go in the pool. The trans guy always aware of what isn't in his trunks. In heat like this, who cares? Not me. 

Hellfire, Martha, let's go. 

6 comments:

  1. Good, lord. You have your mother's gift for writing! :-)

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  2. Maybe some day everyone will come to understand that our bodies are what carry us around, and the person inside is more important than judging the vessel.

    Maybe they won't, but at least some of us will learn to stop caring, and just be who we are, complexities or imperfections bedamned. And we can all stop worrying about being the fat guy. I hope for this, at least. Cos getting in the water is so much more important. Ai.

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    1. Especially when the water is that perfect.

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  3. By the way -- the title of your blog is perfection.

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    1. Thank you! It took a while, but I'm pleased with it.

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