Only Four Moves

Why is there no reason we can't change, when we all fall down, who will take the blame-..THERE IT IS!!! THERE IT IS!!! THERE IT IS!!! THERE IT IS!!!! THERE IT IS!!!! OH MY GAWD!! YEAH!!! YEAH!! YEAH!!

The screen pushed against my young nose. Or I pushed my nose against the old screen. It was too long ago to remember. But I remember the dusty smell mixed with a distinctly metallic smell. A smell so drastic, it was almost a taste, or maybe it was a taste, still my senses are cloudy. The dust from the surface that zipped when stroked was on my lips and I knew it. It hit my lips and I would wipe them clean with my sleeves, the sleeves that were wet with tears. Tears that hit like surf. But when the dust from the window screen hit the saliva on my lips, I tasted it. It didn't taste bad. But I would still wipe my tongue with my tear-soaked sleeve. That tasted bad. However, I was totally free. I was being welcomed, goaded out, into a perfectly comfortable world, a world that I was lucky to have. But, it was like I was in a jail cell. I looked out and saw my family, and my friends. And they cared about my existence, and my activities. The sun beat down, but it beat down pleasantly. Wood was wet, but it didn't become soggy, it just became wet. And in a pleasant way this was unpleasant. At this moment, I hated water. I would never drink it again. I would die before that happened. My eyes were spewing it, but I still hated it. My sleeves were wet with it, and I still hated it. Everyone enjoyed it, but I hated it. It was my biggest obstacle. The fluid that made up ninety percent of my body. I hated water. It made me lost. I knew how to swim. It stood in my way. And I couldn't traverse it. I could swim in real life. I enjoyed it. I liked how the water felt on my skin. I liked submerging my body completely under water. It was like a whole different world down there, underwater. It looked nice too, especially if it was crystal-clear and the sun was lightly shining on it, so its surface shimmered. I liked taking baths too. But I hated water. With all my heart, I hated water. I would never touch it again, even if my skin was dry as volcano. A volcano that I couldn't reach because of the water. And that is not beside the point. I cried water to get away from water. I cried water to get past water. And after my eyes shed enough water, he came in, dripping with water, creating a puddle on the floor; two puddles actually, one for each foot. He didn't want to do this, but he was guided by a higher force, a higher force that was still by the water. The same entity that I needed to slay, to destroy, to make meager. And as the final bit of water rolled down my face, I watched him walk through jungles and tall grass, throwing bait at creatures he liked, and throwing rocks at creatures he despised. (He even sometimes threw rocks at creatures he liked.) I watched him climb steps, expertly, weaving in and out of houses, until he reached the golden one. I choked on my tears, and coughed out my sorrow. My life was going to be free, and this was the house. I think now about the dusty screen and I now remember him talking to another man, a man with a top hat on, if I remember correctly, and he taught me the way. It took him three minutes. And I went back to loving water. I loved everything about it. It wasn't a problem, not in the least. Every time I saw it I smiled. And the man that was dripping on my floor went back to the water, annoyed. And I was supposed to come, but I stayed away. I was too absorbed, and I would be for twelve more years. I was back on my stride. I enjoyed swimming again, but not at that very moment. For that moment, I rather go surfing. And that was exactly what I did. I think that night I reached that volcano. But, it had to have been before eight o'clock. Because that was my bedtime.

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[Mike Goodwin]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-AlhaJF5Afw