I’m careful where I step. Water ripples greenish blue against hot sand; pebbles mixed with quartz grains and pine needles, sharp amid the duff, blown down from the upper stories of the sugar pines clumped along the beach. Kids falling off paddle boards into the cold lake, voices like stretched brake linings in the dry air. A geometric rim of mountains in the near distance. A few geese float detached on the current. Beside us a family under a mesh canopy speaks English and Russian. I love the present with its layers of seconds faceted like sparks hammered off the glinting surface. I want to stay here endlessly, standing at the convergence of sand and water while we watch them sequestered under the clutter of branches, breathing suntan lotion. I dread the future, yet it arrives little by little. Knowingly we disappear into it. Our bodies dissolve molecule by molecule swept out to the edge of the intangible, where light is compressed into blackness. Where red ants crawl in their columns across rotting earth, leaving no more than a trail of resin behind. Copyright © 2015 by Alan Soldofsky. Used with permission of the author. |
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