Wednesday, July 31, 2013

The Sea Said Go Home

 When school ended and the weekend was upon me, I would walk.  I didn't know what else to do with my time.  There were no books or internet or art or people to speak with... so I walked and spoke to the land under my boots.
 A make shift futbol field of spare tire and dust.
 The abandoned brick fort atop the stone hill.
The oil fields oozing muck in the caked earth.
 The men holding hands as they walked to mosque.  Don't you dare get caught out in this heat during prayer time.  No water can be purchased.  No shade can be found.  And they won't let you inside.
 Nothing lives in this heat.
 So I would go to the Sea.
 Stop my walking and try to listen instead.  The Sea would always say... go home.

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